


How to Make a Perfect Cup of Coffee

by walking_through_autumn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Secondhand embarrassment, Some angst, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_through_autumn/pseuds/walking_through_autumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirchstein is facing a crisis. His angel had walked through the doors of Wings and he had memorized the guy's coffee order. He had made a brilliant joke involving a long-dead traveler. He had made the most perfect cup of cappuccino. All that's left is to get his number. </p>
<p>Problem Number One: Eren Jaegar</p>
<p>Problem Number Two: Eren Jaegar</p>
<p>Problem Number Three: Eren fucking-cockblock Jaegar making a joke that Marco laughed at</p>
<p>Cue the attempt to get together with the love of his life while battling the worst rival one could ever ask for. Also why do people keep making these strange insinuations about him and Eren my-life's-purpose-is-to-give-Jean-blue-balls Jaegar? It's a terrible, terrible world he lives in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step One: Gather Your French Press and Ingredients

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Manga characters not yet in the anime appear. Also, minor characters who I have a huge bias for. Terribly inaccurate coffee-making. Possible OOC-ness. Boys being stupid. Lots of cussing. From people who've kindly read and commented, they say there're tons of secondhand embarrassment. You have been warned. 
> 
> Disclaimers: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin. The steps to making coffee have been found through WikiHow. Nor do I own the initial idea. For the initial idea, I thank the OP of the SnK kink meme prompt, as well as Marcobutt and Terriblyfaggy on Tumblr for the description, set-up, conversation, and comic that have been the inspiration of this first chapter (http://marcobutt.tumblr.com/post/57805273902/scentless-adult-modern-barista-au-marco-is-ordering). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Step One: Gather Your French Press and Ingredients

He had memorized the guy’s coffee order.

Eren rolls his eyes whenever Jean says this, because a customer coming here for the first time and ordering _once_ doesn’t mean Jean can memorize anything. Jean flips him off and sighs at the way the guy’s lips and tongue had rolled over that one word, Jean’s favourite word in the world now. _Cappuccino._ Jean thinks it might not be too late if he starts now and drinks cappuccinos for the rest of his life.

“You’re an idiot, Kirschtein,” Eren declares for the fifth time that day.

“Can it, Jaegar,” Jean snaps. At least, he had meant to snap, but it comes out as some sort of half sigh. Jean is magnanimous though, because his co-worker, with his messy hair and glaring eyes and eternal frown, couldn’t possess a single romantic bone in his body. Of course he doesn’t. Just look at the coffee he drinks. What sort of freak can down a triple espresso and still sleep at night? Freak.

Marco, on the other hand. Jean knows him well, because he had stared at the guy during the whole five minutes he had been here. With his intent focus on his book, and those freckles on his high cheekbones standing out in their well-lit café. Jean imagines the way he will sip his coffee and leave a foam moustache he isn’t aware of and that Jean will ache to wipe off with his thumb, or lick off –

Eren snaps his fingers in front of Jean’s face and makes an impatient noise. Unromantic, and rude to boot. Jean scowls and says, “What?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, we’re at work,” Eren says with a huff, one hand planted on his hip. It makes him look like a girl – Jean thinks of pointing it out, but that will end in a brawl, which is not good for work, so he reminds himself of his magnanimity and refrains. Besides, what if the Marco guy comes in and sees them fighting? All hopes of getting his number will be dashed.

The bell above the door rings, as though the gods above – or maybe just their boss – have sensed the impending fight. Eren turns to say a professional “Welcome to _Wings_.”

 _Home to Heavenly Coffee,_ Jean thinks, sarcastic tone and all. He turns around as well.

And has to duck beneath the counter immediately.

Eren looks at him with an expression that says, without words, _What the fuck now, Kirschtein_? Though the small smile tugging at his lips means the fucker knows exactly why Jean is hiding under the counter, only the top half of his head visible because he needs to see this. Because none other than Marco not-Polo had walked through the doors and is looking for a good seat. He is looking for a seat. He’s not going to order take-away coffee, at least for a while, and Jean will be free to stare at him.

“Oh god, that’s him,” he whimpers. “What if he remembers me? That’s going to be so embarrassing.”

“You’re already an embarrassment, what’s the difference?” Eren says, sounding distracted. “Is he not gonna order a drink? He’s just gonna freeload off our wi-fi?”

“Stop being an asshole, Jaegar,” Jean says, as distracted as Eren is, because Marco had decided on a bar-top seat by the window which has a convenient charging point, and when he hops into his seat Jean decides the guy has a very fine ass.

He would have been contented to hide behind the counter forever, but Eren whacks the top of his head with an oven mitt and barks at him to get up, a gaggle of girls is heading their way, which means they’ll need to actually make coffee soon. Seeing the girls Eren had mentioned – giggly and frilly and with too much make-up – Jean knows it’ll be four frappuccinos of varying tastes.

“How may I help you?” Eren asks with a smile. Jean has to admire how Eren is able to smile like he’s not some criminally insane guy obsessed with antagonizing Jean. He’s such a professional liar.

The girls giggle – do they never stop giggling? It’s distracting him from studying the way sunlight hits Marco’s hair – and one of them twirls their hair around a finger. Eren’s smile does not wavers. “Two mocha frappuccinos, and two green tea frappuccinos, please. Size tall.”

Something above Eren’s left eye twitches. “We do not carry that size, miss.”

“Oh!” A hand flies to her mouth and the rest giggle even more, though one of them has the good grace to hide her face with a hand, as though in embarrassment. “What was I thinking? I meant, small, please.”

Eren nods and keys in the order. “And your name?”

The girl leans forward, resting against the counter and emphasizing her generous breasts. “Jenny,” she says in a breathy voice. “Do you need my number too?”

Jean almost has to laugh at the way Eren leans back subtly. “Your name will be enough, Miss…Jenny. We’ll call you when your order’s ready. That’ll be 16.80, please.”

She pouts. Jean thinks, _it’s always Eren, the bastard_. Because when he had written a huge fat “POLO” on Marco’s cup, Eren had groaned and Marco had taken his drink and left without a word. And what did Eren do? Zero flirtation skills and he still manages to get the girls gagging for him.

Well, no matter. Because he’s sure Marco had given him a smile when he left the café. A small one. Miniscule, really. Maybe just a twitch in facial muscles, but still. Score one for Jean Kirschtein. He stares dreamily in Marco’s direction, where he’s sure the sunlight has formed a small halo above the guy’s head.

“You’ve heard the order,” Eren says, kicking Jean in the side none-too-gently. “We’ve got some frappuccinos to make. Quit staring. It’s fucking creepy.”

He sniffs and draws himself up to his full height. “I’m not staring. I’m being observant.” Still he spoons out good, ground coffee, not the instant shit that other brand name chain stores are using, while Eren does the same with premium matcha imported from Kyoto. _Wings_ is one of its kind, with genuinely awesome coffee and, to top it all off, angelic customers that have kissable freckles and charming smiles. Jean’s only complaint is his co-worker, though he has to admit that Eren Jaegar whips up a mean coffee, always fragrant and just sweet enough.

Eren glances at the thermometer in the hot water and gives an approving nod at the temperature, pours the liquid into two containers for Jean and him. Jean grabs two blenders and a tray of ice cubes, catches the milk carton from Eren and whisks it into the mixture that will soon become mocha. Eren had even dug the chocolate syrup out of the fridge and placed it by his hand.

He might hate the bastard, but Jean has to agree that they work well together.

The sound of the blenders whirring away almost distracts him from the fact that Marco had left his seat to approach the counter. And before he could do anything Eren had grabbed Jean’s hand, placed it on top of the blender with green tea in it, and left to get Marco’s order.

Scratch the bit about working well together. Jean well and truly hates the bastard.

He stops the blender when the drinks are at the right consistency. Jean pretends to be concentrating on pouring the mixtures into cups with “Jenny” scrawled over them, but really his ears are trained on the conversation Eren and Marco are having. Perhaps conversation would be stretching it a bit. Eren asks for Marco’s order, gets “cappuccino” in return – _I knew it!_ Jean thinks with triumph – asks for his name, gets, well, his name in return. As though they both didn’t know his name from his first visit. Gets the payment, and cheerily tells Marco to hold on until his order is done.

Jean nearly overfills the first cup with how hard he had been trying to hear Marco’s sweet voice. He hastily fills a second cup with green tea frappuccino and ignores the grin Eren shoots his way.

“So are you going to make the coffee, or am I?”

“Shut up.”

Eren laughs and grabs a cup, scrawling Marco’s name on it. That in itself is an answer, Jean thinks as he leaves the rest of the drinks to Eren and collects some ground espresso. He’s going to make the best damn cappuccino Marco has ever tasted. Then the guy will swoon, and then Jean will have his number, and then it will be Score Two for him while Eren mopes in the background. It’s a perfect plan. Even if it’s a pain in the ass to foam the milk just right, but he _needs_ to give Marco a coffee orgasm.

He’s so hard at work he doesn’t take a second glance at the cup Eren hands to him, just places it under the espresso dispenser and knits his brow in concentration. He can even throw in some coffee art, a heart or something. No, that’ll be too obvious. A leaf? A cat? Marco seems like the type who likes cats. Jean decides to draw a cat.

The concoction is perfect. The foamed milk had made the coffee creamy, and his cat looks like a cat with a sweet smile – _shut up Jaegar that’s not a deranged look_ – and he had even sprinkled some ground cinnamon on the foam. He’s sure to get a date at the very least.

Eren whisks it away, puts on a lid – Jean wants to protest _but what about the cat_? – and marches away to the waiting area. Jean scrambles after him. He will not let Eren steal the glory, this cappuccino’s all Jean’s work, it has his hopes written all over it. The chances of getting Marco’s number rides on this.

Then he sees the name Eren has written on the cup and he thinks, wait, had he been painstakingly making a cappuccino for Ferdinand Magellan all this while? A guy who has been dead for more than half a millennium? Is this Eren’s idea of a sick joke? But Marco is looking at him with a quizzical expression, perfect black hair parted in the middle over his wide forehead and the top button of his shirt undone and one slim hand resting on his bag, and Jean forgets everything about a dead Portuguese fellow. He has to grip onto the counter and try not to trip over his feet.

Eren grins, hands the coffee over the counter to Marco, and says, “I hope this is a traveler people haven’t made dumb jokes about to you.”

Marco looks stunned.

Jean _is_ stunned.

Why hadn’t _he_ thought of that? What is Eren insinuating? Jean does not make dumb jokes, thank you very much. But more importantly, why is Marco not looking at Jean? Jean, who had made the cappuccino with extra tender loving care? Eren hadn’t even said anything particularly funny. He is just being an ass like usual.

Then Marco smiles and Jean tries not to slump into the ground, because Marco looks like an angel. No, he _is_ an angel. Even if the smile is aimed at Eren fucking Jaegar and – is that a laugh? It is. Marco is laughing, and it’s a light, boyish sound that does not make Jean want to tear out his eardrums like at those girls’ giggles, it’s a laugh that makes his eyes wrinkle and that makes dimples appear. Dimples. Jean stares.

Eren chuckles as well. Jean makes a sound like a dying whale. Marco looks at Eren with soft eyes and walks away, turning and giving a small wave before he goes through the doors.

A small silence follows during which Jean tries to breathe normally. “Well, he does seem like a nice guy,” Eren finally says.

Jean regains the strength in his legs and lunges at Eren, grabbing onto his apron. Eren yelps. The rest of the people in the café sip at their coffees peacefully, as though it is an everyday occurrence and they are used to it. “Damnit, Jaegar! My one chance, my one fucking chance, and you had to go and ruin it!”

“What _is_ your problem, Jean!” Eren says, looking more and more pissed off. It makes his eyes seem like they’re burning with the light. “You would have just said something stupid and we would have lost a customer! I’m surprised he even came back, honestly.”

“I would not have said something stupid!” Jean protests. He would not have made any Marco Polo jokes for sure. Maybe just ask Marco if he wanted to play the Marco Polo game, that’s all. How would that be stupid? Marco would give his small laugh and give Jean his contact number so that they could hang out and play that game, and maybe more.

Now it’s Score One for both Jean and Eren, because Marco had not even looked in Jean’s direction once the whole time Eren had been flirting with him. Eren, who had not a romantic bone in him.

Eren works Jean’s grip off him and huffs. “If you have nothing better to do than think up stupid jokes then get to cleaning, Kirsch – right, seriously, are you okay?”

Jean had buried his face in his hands and is groaning and muttering curses, because Eren Jaegar is a fucking bastard who does not deserve to breathe the same air he does. Now Marco will never know that Jean had drawn the cat to make him happy, he will think it’s all Eren’s work, Jean should have signed his name on it or something.

Eren touches his shoulder hesitantly, as though afraid he’ll catch some disease from Jean, something that will strip away his sanity.

“Go away, Jaegar,” he says. It comes out muffled because he’s still covering his face with his hands. He does not want to see Eren. He wants to keep the image of Marco smiling in his mind forever. Nevermind that it hadn’t been aimed at him.

He can imagine Eren rolling his eyes. “Such a drama queen. I’ll tell the boss to dock your pay.”

And Jean really, really wants Eren to stop talking and to just let him wallow in misery and self-righteousness. Also because all Eren’s horrible terrible no-good voice is doing is reminding him of the angelic sounds of Marco laughing and, in the background, a delighted chuckle very unlike Marco's working its way into and weaving around the boyish laughter. 


	2. Step Two: Grind the Beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco makes a re-appearance, and Jean gets to talk with him. Somewhat. If you can consider that a conversation.

Step Two: Grind the Beans

The problem about confiding in Armin Arlelt is that he is also Eren Jaegar’s best friend and, as such, he is more inclined to view the catastrophe in a balanced manner. But even if he’s not on Jean’s side, he thinks Armin will never be so petty as to always take Eren’s side. Armin is a reasonable, sensible person. To this day Jean has never figured out why Armin chose to hang out with Eren, and since he cannot quite figure it out, he’ll just put it down as Eren being not only the most bloody-minded git the world has ever seen, but also a manipulative bloody-minded git.

It also means that before Jean had thought of approaching Armin for advice, Eren had likely already told Armin the story. Armin’s expression as Jean marches to him now is a mix of amusement and dread, smothered over by an attempt at neutrality when Jean is closer. He gathers his papers and books and places them in his bag. Thank goodness that in the sprawling campus, he has chosen a little nook nobody ever visits – it means Jean will be able to rant in peace.

Jean slides a take-away coffee over the table the same time he says, “Eren is an asshole.”

Armin sighs and accepts the coffee. “When is he not?” he says in a patient, let’s-humour-the-lovesick-fool way.

Jean takes that as his sign to launch into a self-righteous rant. Armin is the perfect listener. He sips his coffee, nods in the right places, makes sympathetic noises, and seems to fully understand the importance of how angelic Marco is, how Jean and him will become a match made in heaven, how Jean is the only one who will make a perfect cup of cappuccino for him complete with award-winning coffee art, and above all how Eren will never ever be able to top Jean when it comes to romance.

Armin bites his lip so hard it’s like he’s going to draw blood. For a while Jean is concerned, but Armin waves away his worries and takes another sip of coffee, ducking down to let his fringe hide his eyes, his shoulders shaking. It’s probably just him being overwhelmed by the thought of how perfect Marco and Jean will be together. Jean takes his reaction as an invitation to further sketch out the perfection of Marco. He takes pains to elaborate on how Eren, blunt and harsh and annoyingly stubborn, will never be able to understand how Marco needs a sensitive man like Jean.

The whole story, from Marco’s first step into the café, down to the important details like the cute cat Jean had drawn, to the end when Eren demonstrated the extent to which he can be an evil prick, took half an hour with few pauses on Jean’s part and a lot of nodding on Armin’s part. Jean’s coffee also went cold by the end.

“Oh my god,” Armin says in a small voice. Jean drinks his coffee and makes a face at it. Armin’s lips twitch like they’re not sure whether to smile or just let loose a round of laughter. “That’s quite a story.”

“Isn’t it? The next time Marco visits – oh god, what should I do the next time he visits?” Jean says, his eyes wide. “Eren is bound to be a little shit again.”

Armin coughs. “You guys don’t always have the same shifts.”

“You’re right. I should find a pattern in when Marco comes to the café, and then arrange my shifts according to that!” That’s why talking to Armin is a good idea – it sparks off ideas and makes Jean giddy at his own brilliance.

“Jean, the guy visited twice.”

“Exactly! Last Friday at three, and then yesterday at two. So he comes in the afternoons and…oh…” He deflates a little when he realizes there’s no definite pattern to Marco’s visits. “Well, he might come again on Friday?”

“And Eren has a shift with you then, because he has Friday afternoons off,” Armin points out.

“Can’t you arrange something with him? Make it so he’s not there?” Jean says. He had hoped the coffee will sweet talk Armin into giving him some advice and also being his partner in crime. No, wait, his partner in not-crime. His partner in orchestrating the greatest love affair the world will ever see.

“I have classes, Jean.”

Well, that hope is dashed quickly enough.

“Um, how about Mikasa?”

“Jean…Mikasa and I have the same class,” Armin says slowly. He seems apologetic when Jean’s face falls. “Look, I’ll talk to Eren, maybe get him to, um, give you a chance to talk to Marco? Only this time, please don’t make anymore Marco Polo jokes. Please. _Please._ ”

Armin looks pained. Jean wonders why everyone is so huffy about his stroke of genius. Nobody has any decent sense of humour left. “Fine, I won’t, okay?”

“Please make sure you don’t. And just tell him you like him, for god’s sake.”

That’s it? That’s Armin’s plan? “You don’t just go up to someone and tell them that you have a crush on them!” he yelps.

“Why not? You did that with Mikasa last time,” Armin says.

“That was when we were fifteen and idiotic!”

He swears he can hear Armin mutter “not that there’s much difference now”. Jean decides this corruption of Armin’s personality is all Eren’s fault, as everything always is.

“Armin, are you on my side or not? Help me!”

“I’m on nobody’s side. And I _am_ trying – Jean, just go up to Marco and tell him you’d like very much to know him more. I haven’t met the guy but if he’s as, uh, angelic as you say he is…he’ll at least hear you out.”

“But – but – ” Jean had been thinking of something more detailed. Like roses, bunches and bunches of roses. Or something cheerful like sunflowers. Maybe if he asks Nanaba he can get away with decorating the café in fragrant flowers that will surely make Marco smile.

“Stop.” Armin’s lips twitch again. “Don’t overthink it. Just talk to him. Be normal. You can save the romance for later.”

“First impressions count though,” Jean says.

Armin chokes on his saliva then and has to cough a few times to clear it. As kindly as he can, he says, “I’m afraid his first impression of you may not have been very, uh, memorable. It’s more like trying to repair the damage now.”

“What damage?” Jean asks, genuinely confused.

Armin makes a face then. It’s the “I’m talking to an idiot” face. Jean thinks he should feel insulted, but it’s Armin, Armin does that even to his best friends on occasions, and it’s hard to get pissed off at him when the guy is trying to help him. Armin’s tone becomes stern when he says, “Jean. Talk to him like a normal person. Don’t make jokes. Ask him whether he’s a student, what book he’s reading, whatever you like, as long as it’s not creepy. Not _too_ creepy.”

Jean has doubts. But if Armin, the smartest guy he knows, dishes out this advice, then he decides he’ll take it. Didn’t he say the romance can wait? And in any case Jean needs time to find a good florist to supply him with the largest number of sunflowers possible. “Thanks man. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Armin hums and says, under his breath, “I don’t doubt you will.”

.

He thinks maybe he should get into a religion. Find a good god to pray to. Whatever gods are watching over him now, they’re probably laughing and nudging each other aside for the best view. Maybe sharing a large bucket of popcorn.

Because Marco had walked into the café on a sunny, busy Friday afternoon while he and Nanaba are making four lattes and two espressos. Jean knows because the tinkling of the bells had announced an angel’s arrival and he had seen, out of the corner of his eye, that perfect hair parted over a perfect forehead. But the gods have planned this – Eren is handling the register, and Jean must have killed someone in his past life because the gods apparently refuse to let him get laid.

“Jean,” Nanaba hisses out of the corner of his mouth. “That’s more than enough milk.”

“Sorry,” Jean mutters and his hand stops. The orders are flashing in the screen in front of them as Eren keys them in and the line inches forward. The café is nearly full today because of the anniversary twenty percent discount, and almost all staff are on hand to deal with the flood of customers. Jean thinks, his heart sinking, that Marco is going to get take-away coffee, and he’ll only be able to speak to him for a minute, maybe two if he’s lucky. Or maybe not at all, judging from the number of orders. And the fact that Nanaba, usually sweet and lenient to his juniors, will not hesitate to pull him back by the ear if he’s taking too long to deliver the drinks.

“I’ve got the matcha,” Gerger announces, using his hip to bump open the door.

Nanaba sighs in relief. “Three matcha lattes incoming.”

“Gotcha.”

It’s almost too crowded at the work station, but with some quick arrangement they’re all able to reach the milk, coffee, sugar, chocolate, and whatever else easily enough. Jean is forced to focus on whisking and blending and pouring for a while until he hears, from the direction of the register,

“Hello, what would you like?”

“Hi, Eren.”

Jean nearly crushes the cup in his hand. Nanaba makes a sound of panic and manages to salvage the drink from his hand. “Jean!”

Jean isn’t able to reply. “Kid, a fly’s gonna get in if yer don’t shut yer mouth,” Gerger says with a laugh.

“This isn’t the time for epiphanies,” Nanaba scolds. He holds his hand out and Gerger places the bottle of chocolate syrup in it. “Jean, go deliver the drinks.”

Why does Marco know Eren’s name? More importantly, why does Marco sound so happy? Jean whimpers and barely notices when Gerger shoves a tray of drinks into his hands and pushes him to the waiting area. He somehow manages to do his job of passing the drinks to the correct people, only because he needs to get back as fast as he can to find out more.

Of course, because the gods are watching a soap opera, when he gets back he finds Marco had already placed his order. The “cappuccino” order is flashing on the screen.

“I’ll take the cappuccino,” he says to Nanaba and Gerger.

“After you’ve finished the frapps,” Nanaba says, looking and sounding less tense now that the orders have slowed down.

“Deal.”

“What’s so special about this cappuccino?” Gerger asks. It’s a reasonable question, since Jean and Eren tend to just make what their seniors tell them to during rush hours.

“Oh, nothing,” Jean says with an attempt at nonchalance. “Just wanted to practice making it a bit more.”

“Jean wants to make it for his not-boyfriend.”

Jean growls. Nanaba beams. “There you are, Eren! No one else in the line? The mochas are all yours.”

“Sure,” Eren says, smirking in Jean’s direction. Jean decides to focus all his energy on a mental image of strangling Eren by the strings of his aprons. With that image in mind he starts making the frappuccinos as fast as he can.

“What’s this about a not-boyfriend, _hmm_?” Gerger asks with a badly concealed grin.

“You sound like a pervert, Gerger.” Nanaba rolls his eyes then asks, “So what _is_ it about?”

“Like yer much better.”

“Healthy curiosity on my part.”

“Jean is crushing on a customer,” Eren replies, ignoring Jean sputtering in the background.

“Oooooh.” The twinkle in Nanaba’s eye is not a good sign. Knowing him he’s going to poke his nose into this and tease for all it’s worth. “Who’s the guy then?”

“I thought fer sure you two had something going on,” Gerger says, sounding disappointed.

“Who?” Eren asks. For once he and Jean have the same look of confusion.

“Ne’ermind. So who’s the kid?”

“Black hair, freckles, mm, a bit taller than Jean. Nice eyes.”

This is why Eren cannot do romance. Jean is just choosing not to say anything, because he had finished his frappuccinos and is moving on to the star of the day, the cappuccino with Marco’s name written all over it. If it is up to Jean, he would have said “the guy with the constellation of freckles on his high cheekbones, smooth hair carefully parted in the middle, eyes twinkling with confidence and humour, shy smile and boyish laughter”. That is a more befitting description of Marco.

“I have to see who this is.” Nanaba grabs the prepared drinks and places it on the tray. He winks at Jean before heading over to the customers.

“Uh oh,” Gerger deadpans. “Nanaba’s curious.”

Eren hums and does some coffee art of his own on the mochas. Jean spies from the corner of his eye that Eren is drawing an intricate leaf. Well, he won’t be outdone. He makes sure his cat is as cute as it was last time, then Marco will know, for sure, that it’s him.

“He’s cute,” Nanaba declares when he comes back. “I approve. Have you talked to him yet?”

Before Jean can say anything Eren laughs and says, “His name is Marco. And Jean called him Marco Polo.”

“You didn’t.” Nanaba looks horrified as he turns to stare at Jean.

“You did.” Gerger seems like he’s about to bust a rib from trying not to laugh.

“Come on, you have to admit it was funny!” Jean says, lifting his eyes only after he’s sure his cat is perfect. He crosses his arms when Nanaba’s look of horror does not abate. “What?”

Nanaba points a finger in Jean’s face, making him jump. “You. You are going to go there now, with this cappuccino, and you’re going to talk to him. You’re not allowed back until you’ve had a conversation that does not involve dumb jokes.”

“Not making dumb jokes is physically impossible for him,” Eren says, sweeping past with his batch of mochas.

“That may be so – ” Jean wants to yelp with the injustice of it all – “but you’re going to try, aren’t you, Jean?”

“Nanaba’s inner romantic is coming out,” Gerger says in a stage whisper. “Better do as he says.”

“I, um – ” Jean clears his throat with an attempt at suave unconcern. “Yeah. Right, yes.” The cappuccino with the cat seems to wink at him, like it’s encouraging him on. _You know Marco will love me, then you’ll get his number,_ the cat seems to say as its smile wavers in the foam.

This is it. This is the moment. When Armin had somehow convinced Eren to give him some space to talk to Marco, when Nanaba has thwarted the gods’ attempt in preventing him from getting laid, when his cappuccino is more perfect than ever. Jean wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and takes that one precious cup of coffee, tries not to trip over himself as he makes his way to the counter. Eren passes him on the way back and mutters, as some sort of encouragement, “Don’t spill the coffee, goddamnit.”

Jean is so nervous he doesn’t think of replying. Because waiting for his coffee and reading a book is Marco. Marco. Who looks up and gives a small smile at Jean when he sees the coffee in his hand.

“Thank you, Jean.”

In that moment Jean swears his mind explodes. The noise of the café fades away into nothing. He has found his new favourite word. His name, said in Marco’s voice. It echoes in his mind, like it had been shouted into a mountain range. _Jean, Jean, Jea –_

Distantly he’s aware that Marco has tilted his head and is asking something. Something like, “um, excuse me?” It manages to shock him into thinking something other than “you sound like clear bells at midnight”.

“How – how do you know my name?” Jean manages to ask.

Great. That’s not what he had planned to say. He had planned to make some smart statement on the book Marco’s reading ( _War and Peace and War_ , what?). Marco looks at him like he’s not quite right in the head, and he points at Jean’s chest and says, “Um, your nametag?”

_Oh_. That’s right. Nanaba had these made for them. For a moment he’s elated – so Marco did not know Eren’s name beforehand, hah, take that! Then it crashes into disappointment, because Marco knowing his name does not have any special meaning then.

His emotions must have played out on his face – Marco looks at him for a while then says, “You’re a funny guy, Jean.”

Jean hopes his voice does not crack when he says, “What?” Eloquence at its finest there. Did Marco just compliment him? He’ll take it as a compliment, because Marco has a tiny smile. “Um.”

“I’ll have my coffee, please?”

Jean looks down to find he is still holding the coffee. “Oh. Oh, uh, yeah.” He hands the coffee over and feels the brief brush of Marco’s fingers against his. Oh lord. It’s Marco’s fingers, soft and – is that a callous? Does he play the guitar? Practice fencing? Baseball? _What left that callous there_? How is it going to feel like on his –

“Thanks.”

Then Marco is leaving. Marco is leaving and all Jean had managed to ask was a stupid question, followed by lots of pointless stuttering. Nanaba will be doubly horrified. Eren will laugh, that smug bastard. And Jean will never get his number.

It’s the last thought that prompts him to blurt out “Marco!” It stops Marco in his tracks and attracts the attention of half the café. He turns around with a questioning expression on his face.

“Yes?”

Jean doesn’t know what to say. All he had known was that he couldn’t let the conversation end there. What should he talk about? Ask for Marco’s number? Talk about the book?

In a state of great confusion his mind focuses on the cup in Marco’s grip. “The, um, the foam cat. Do you like it?”

He hears somebody snicker. That is unimportant compared to Marco’s blank stare. Then he lifts the lid and peers at the coffee. “Oh. It’s nice. You did this the last time too?”

Marco remembers the cat. Jean feels like he could die now and he’ll be happy. Except not really, because he has yet to get Marco’s number. “Yeah.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Then before Jean could say anything more Marco really does walk out of the café, the tinkling of the bells signaling an angel’s departure. The second he does, Nanaba grabs Jean by the neck of his apron and drags him back, nearly choking him. Gerger had dissolved into raucous laughter behind the counter. Jean registers this in a haze – what has just happened?

“Oh, Jean,” Nanaba murmurs in an amused and pitying way. He smoothes Jean’s apron and mutters apologies for choking him.

“He knows my name,” Jean says in an awed whisper.

Gerger wheezes and gives up trying to hold in his laughter. With the show over, most of the café patrons go back to minding their own business, ignoring Gerger’s roars of amusement.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Nanaba says, managing to make himself heard over the noise.

“That was lame.” Eren’s voice, grating and annoying, cuts through the haze of Jean’s mind.

“Shut up, Jaegar,” Jean replies on autopilot, his mind still stuck on the way Marco had said his name.

“Eren,” Nanaba says, effectively delivering a warning with one word. Eren mimes zipping his mouth shut. “Well, at least you, uh, spoke to him. Without dumb jokes.”

“I’ll say, that was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen. If only I had a drink to go with that.” It seems like Gerger had managed to drag himself up from the ground and was speaking with only the occasional choked chuckle. “Yer really like him, huh?”

“I’d say that’s obvious,” Nanaba says. He pats Jean’s shoulder and asks, “Jean, are you with us?”

“Yeah,” Jean breathes. Of course he is. He couldn’t be anywhere else but in this perfect world where Marco had said Jean’s name, had noticed and complimented his cat. _This is so beautiful, Jean,_ the Marco in his mind says, with a bright beam and eyes that are glistening, _we’ll have to go out together now, let me tell you all about the twelve children we’ll have together_.

“He’s not,” Gerger says as he begins to arrange the ingredients now that the rush has died down for a while. Nanaba waves a hand in front of Jean’s eyes, is met with a blissful expression and an unfocused gaze, and is forced to agree with Gerger’s assessment. Gerger chuckles again and says, “Jean, take a break now. Eren, help me clean this up – oh, you dropped something?”

“Hmm?” Eren had wandered off to wipe the counter down. Not that Jean really cares, since the world is a wonderful mist now where only his conversation with Marco matters. As well as thoughts of the wonderful future they’ll have together. The tiny part of his mind that is still conscious of his surroundings sits up and takes note when Eren looks back at Gerger examining the card. A card with his name scrawled on it. “Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t want to lose it, so I placed it on the counter.”

“No prob – hey,” Gerger squints at the name at the end of the card and stays silent for a while before he says, quiet in a way that captures all their attention, “isn’t this from the Marco guy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys enjoyed the first chapter, would love to hear what you think of this one! (With some more of my favourite characters having come in :))


	3. Step Three: Add Ground Coffee to the Carafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which boys fight in compromising positions.

When Jean and Armin once had a class about the universe and subjectivity and what-not, Armin had explained, complete with hand motions, that for every human being there is a moment when time just seems to stop even while the world keeps spinning, and options flash before that person’s eyes, and that is where the theory of parallel universes spring from because each action would lead to a different outcome. Jean had been skeptical and, above all, sleepy. In other words, he hadn’t paid much attention even while his brain absorbed the information.

But now Jean is convinced this is the moment for him. The moment where time has stopped and he has to struggle to breathe, because _what did Gerger say surely he just imagined it_?

The café chatters on. Behind the staff counter there is a long silence, until Eren turns back to wiping the counter and says, “Yep.”

That one word breaks the standstill. The strange calm he had descended into gives way to horror. His mind flashes through his options. Number One – do nothing. Number Two – lunge for the card. Number Three – lunge for Eren, who’s humming a strange little tune which seems to be mocking him. He’s certain there are many other options, but his mind zooms in on the third, and his body is moving before he’s even aware. He manages to not knock into Nanaba and Gerger as he runs to choke Eren. Or dunk his head into a sink full of soapy water. Anything, really, as long as Eren can feel the full force of Jean’s wrath.

“ _Oh my lord_ Jean, what the fuck!”

“Eren Jaegar you bastard!”

“Oh dear,” Nanaba says. The cloth Eren had been using flies over his head, straight onto a pile of clean cups. Nanaba thinks he’ll have to get Eren to wash them all later, after he’s finished trying to claw at Jean’s face.

“Yeah,” Gerger says. He props his elbow against the counter and his cheek against a fist, looking like he wishes there’s a bag of popcorn so he can watch the show in comfort.

“Don’t pretend you’re innocent,” Nanaba says, tone mild as his eyes follow the two boys struggling not to fall into the sink or knock all the coffee cups over. Some patrons in the café look over in curiosity before they decide their coffee is more interesting.

Gerger shrugs. “Better that Jean finds out now.”

Nanaba hums. “This Marco guy is scary, huh?”

“Wouldn’t have known Eren’s his type.”

“Hmm,” Nanaba says, watching with Gerger as the two of them tussle with each other. By some sort of instinct they avoid knocking into the counter and messing up the ingredients. Eren dodges Jean’s blows and manages to grab him by the front of the apron to haul him against the staff door. “When’s Levi coming in?” Nanaba asks.

“He’ll be here fer the early evening rush.”

“Think those two will have enough time to clean up?”

“Eh, he’ll kill ’em anyway.”

“True,” Nanaba says with a small sigh before he raises his voice. “Eren, move this to the staff lounge, will you?”

He isn’t sure if Eren had heard him, but judging by the way they’re scuffling and pulling at each other’s hair (seriously?) and shuffling their feet in the direction of the lounge, Nanaba figures the work area is safe. He closes the door after them, ignoring the sounds of them cursing and yelping and generally making a mess. As much as he loves them, he’s going to leave the aftermath to Levi.

“Well then, shall we clean up?” Nanaba says with a smile, swiping the card up and into his pocket for safekeeping – and to see what Marco had written. Never let it be said they do not care about their juniors’ personal lives.

.

In the lounge, after suffering some blows to his cheeks and chest, Jean manages to throw Eren against the couch and pin him there against his will. Eren may be better at fighting, sore as Jean is to admit it, but he is no match against Jean when it comes to height and muscle mass. Jean narrowly avoids a kick to his family jewels and sits on Eren’s legs, pinning his arms down. They’re both panting by now.

“I don’t even know what we’re fighting about,” Eren says after a while. He has stopped struggling, but Jean can see in Eren’s eyes that he will not hesitate to attack should Jean let his guard down for a second.

This. This is exactly why Jean cannot stand the guy. Jean snarls and just manages to hold back from spitting when he says, “I hate you.”

Eren scoffs. “Like that’s news.”

Jean grits his teeth and says, trying to keep his bewilderment and hurt out of his voice, “Marco gave you his number!”

“What? You’re pissed off about that?” Eren looks like he cannot quite comprehend the situation. Jean just wants to punch him, but that will lead to another brawl, and Nanaba and Gerger won’t be so generous as to give them an hour long break. “Look, he just asked whether I wanna hang out with him sometime, that’s all.”

That’s all? _That’s all_ , he says? Jean makes a sound like a wounded animal. “You don’t even like him and _you_ get his number?!”

“Uh, Jean, he’s the one who gave it to me.”

“I don’t care!” This world is fucking unfair. “This is so against the rules!”

“What rules?!” Eren squirms again, trying to get some leverage. “You have a fucking crush, so bloody what? Are you gonna demand that he pays attention to no one but you?”

_Well, yeah_ , a small part of Jean says. The part of his brain that’s still working makes Jean sputter and say, “That’s not the point! It’s all your fault in the first place!”

Eren groans. “So I made sure you didn’t say a stupid joke to Marco again, and that made him decide that unlike you, I’m actually a decent human being.”

“If that’s an attempt at a joke, I’m not laughing.”

“Of course, because the only jokes you laugh at are the dumbass ones nobody cares about.”

Jean really wants to punch Eren in the face. But then Eren will punch him in his, and he knows first hand how much that sucks. So Jean seethes and tries to strangle Eren instead with his shirt. “You absolute tosser.”

Either Eren is some sort of freak, or Jean just have not mastered the technique for proper strangulation, because Eren is able to roll his eyes and say, “Look, if it bothers you that much, I can give you Marco’s number and you can call him, I don’t know, talk like you’re not an asshole. If you can manage that.”

Fucking bastard. There’s no point if Marco does not give Jean his number personally. Because that’s how it works in all the love stories. Jean snarls. “I will not accept your pity!”

“Who the fuck is pitying you?” Eren hisses, his attempt at calm cracking like thin ice. “I just want you off my case, dimwit! Stop pulling my shirt, it’s gonna rip!”

Jean doesn’t care about the fucking shirt with the strings that keeps Eren’s collarbones from showing. Who the hell still wears shirts like that anyway? He’s about to say all that to Eren and continue about the great injustice of Marco giving Eren his number when the door slams open. On instinct they freeze and turn their heads, very slowly, to face the door that leads in from the lockers and changing room. And they gulp in unison.

This is possibly one of the few times they stand united in the face of slaughter.

With one hand on the door and the other fixing his apron stands their head barista. Also known as their Captain. Sort of like the guy who would order you to stand on the plank with the pointy end of his sword and ask you, politely, to jump off the ship before he stabs you in the kidneys. His expression is as neutral as they’ve ever seen, which means they’re dead.

Jean notices, a little too late, that he’s sitting on Eren’s knees, one hand fisted around Eren’s shirt collar, and Eren’s hands are on his shoulder. Angry as he is, even he recognizes this is not the best way to greet their Captain.

Without blinking, Levi says, “You’re fired.”

It takes Eren a moment to say, “Hi, Captain”, as though there’s nothing wrong with the situation.

“Don’t you Captain me, hormonal brats. I’m going to have to disinfect the whole couch because of you two. Or buy a new one. And it’s coming out of your pay.”

“It’s not what it seems like,” Jean feels the need to say.

“That’s what all people say before they fuck. And did you not hear me say you’re fired?”

“Who the hell would fuck him?” Eren says. Apparently that’s the bigger issue than getting fired.

“That’s my line,” Jean protests.

Levi rolls his eyes. “Do I look like I care? Off the couch, _now_.”

“Levi, they’re just having love troubles, and you know us adults shouldn’t interfere with that,” Nanaba says, his head popping in from around the door leading to the café. “Guys, five more minutes, then we’ll need you at the counter.”

“I said they’re fired,” Levi says, not looking too pleased at the interruption.

“Not today,” Nanaba says with a grin before going back to the café. Gerger’s the next one to pop his head around the door, look at the boys on the couch, whistle and waggle his eyebrows, then go back to his work lest Levi throw a knife at him.

“Before you say anything more, Captain, I’d just like you to know it’s all Eren’s fault,” Jean says with righteous indignation.

“Yeah, because I’m the one throwing a tantrum over not getting a phone number, totally.”

“Oh for – ” Levi seems overwhelmed in the face of combined stupidity. “Just get off the couch, you little shits. I don’t care about this fucking number thing. You two can get fucked ten ways over from hell to back for all I care. _Get off the couch_.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Jean, you’re sitting on me,” Eren whispers, annoyed.

“Whose fault was it in the first place?” Jean mutters back, making sure his knee digs into Eren’s side as he scrambles off.

“Who put a stick up your ass and left it there? Oh, let me guess. Not Marco.”

Jean hisses and sees red for a moment. He’s reminded of why he hates the guy so much. “That’s low.”

Eren shrugs and mutters, softer, “I did offer to share his number with you.”

“Did we employ you guys to have a lover’s spat in the lounge every time you want to jump each other’s bones?” Levi barks, his eyes narrowed so much they’re like snake slits. He looks satisfied when they jump and shake their heads. “I didn’t think so. Get your asses out there, you’re fired after today.”

“No they’re not!” Nanaba says, voice carrying through the half opened door. “Levi, do you have any idea how hard it is to find baristas who can actually make coffee?”

“Just ’cos they’re brats ain’t mean they’re not good!” Gerger adds with a chuckle. “Plus they provide entertainment.”

His life is not entertainment for them, Jean wants to protest. Even if it seems like the gods are milking this soap opera for all it’s worth, it’s a serious thing, alright? Getting Marco’s number is the first step to a once in a lifetime romance, if only Eren Jaegar did not put his great arse out there and ruin it for Jean. The expression on Levi’s face tells him to shut up, like he’s tired of hearing this before he’s even heard it.

“You’re still fired,” Levi mutters.

“Um, I believe boss is the only one who can decide that?” Eren dares to say before Levi turns his glare on him. “Right, sorry, shutting my mouth now.”

“Mike is too much of a damn softie to fire you guys. Fuck. I hate this life,” Levi says with a groan, massaging his temples with his fingers. “You little shits put one more toe out of line – ”

“Yes, castration and the package, we get it, Captain,” Jean says with his most winsome smile.

Levi shudders at the expression on his face. “Did I tell you to talk, horse-face?”

Levi is wrong. Jean is the one who hates his life. Especially so when he sees Eren’s shoulders shaking and the guy turning his face away.

“Or you, shitface?”

“N-no, Captain,” Eren chokes out.

“I thought so. And you’re both staying back today to clean the whole café. And the lounge. I had better not see a speck of dust tomorrow. _Is that clear?_ ”

“Yes!” They both hurry to say, a fear for their lives and their dicks uniting them. They have seen how Levi handles the knife and are ninety percent sure he has some medical background, probably knows how to castrate them in the most painful way without them dying from blood loss. Satisfied with the colour draining from their faces, Levi heads through the door to the café, choosing to endure Nanaba’s cheer and Gerger slapping him on the ass rather than continue looking at them.

Jean bites back his groan. He has the early shift tomorrow as well. And he was supposed to be able to knock off at seven today to go home and drown in the shower while wailing sad songs. Now he has to clean the café with his enemy. His rival in love.

“If you hadn’t gone crazy back then – ” Eren says, rolling his eyes.

“You have Marco’s number,” Jean mutters, as though that justifies everything that Eren would suffer through. He would suffer gladly if he had those important digits.

“And I said I would give it to you if you asked,” Eren says, looking clueless as to why Jean is so hung up over the whole thing.

But it really is pointless if Jean has to resort to stealing the number from his enemy. He had hopes, scenes in his mind of Marco passing his number to him, Jean’s fingers shaking before he first dials the number and sets up a date. And now? Now that’s what Eren is going to do, and he doesn’t even like Marco the way Jean does.

“Nevermind,” Jean mutters, shoving through the door before Eren can send him any more confused looks. He hates that burning sensation behind his eyes, so he tries to ignore it. Considering that Levi is going to be ordering his ass around it will be easy, he thinks.

But he makes sure to avoid looking in Eren’s direction the rest of the day, despite Nanaba’s worried glances and the blanket of nervous tension that hangs over them.

.

“And that’s how Eren ruined my life,” Jean mutters, swirling his ice cream around with listless fingers. By the time he had finished his spiel the ice cream has half melted into a psychedelic mess of white, brown, and red.

This place is far too cheery for his liking, with its colourful swirls of pastel pinks and greens and blues. Armin, sitting opposite him, fits right in with his golden hair and baby blue eyes. Jean doesn’t. He wants to gulp down alcohol, except Armin is prissy when it comes to places to eat, and he had insisted that if he’s going to listen to Jean’s story ice cream is needed. So he had allowed himself to be dragged to _Dots of Pleasure_ , with its gaggle of teenagers and constant chatter. Jean stuffs another spoonful of ‘Titanic Treat’ into his mouth and tries to shield his eyes from the doll house colours.

“So…you declined to get his number?” Armin asks. He has this way of looking disapproving even when he’s not frowning or anything. It’s an Armin skill. “You should have, Jean.”

“But, but that’ll be the creepy stalker thing you were talking about!” Jean protests.

Armin sighs and carefully scoops up some of the ice cream into his mouth. What is it called? Something like ‘Flaming Hot Lady’, a mixture of yellow, red, and beige that reminds Jean of muscles. And scooped like that it looks like an arse, or boobs. Armin assures him it’s good. Jean just never wants to know what went into the pornographic ice cream.

“Jean, you lost the battle, but look on the bright side. Marco knows your name.”

“He knows Eren’s too. And he gave him his number,” Jean mutters, still bitter about it.

“Well, you know, maybe you’ve been going about this the wrong way,” Armin suggests, propping his elbow up on the table and fiddling with the spoon. “That’s why Eren got his number.”

“What do you mean?” Jean asks. Forget about the ice cream, this shit that Armin’s saying is more important.

“Marco probably took a liking to Eren because Eren was being friendly and, uh…funny. In a not-on-purpose way.”

“Armin…” Jean says slowly.

“Face it, Jean, that was a lousy first impression.”

Jean drops his face into his hands and fights the urge to groan. “Why are you guys still harping on about that?”

“Because it was terrible,” Armin says, cheerful and blunt. He tones down the cheer when Jean looks at him with devastation in his eyes. “But you kind of, um, made Marco see there’s more to you than that yesterday! Anyway, my point is, have you tried just being friends with him first?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, I made sure to make the best damn coffee ever for him!” Jean says, running all the encounters through in his head. What better show of friendship is there than making kickass coffee for a guy he likes? And cracking jokes with him?

“No, I mean, getting to know him without thinking of jumping into his pants every second.”

“I don’t – ” Jean feels his face burn – “I don’t think of jumping into his pants every second! It’s all just, I just want to talk to him, and, and – ”

“And kiss him, and take him for walks on the beach, and make slow love to him?” Armin suggests.

Jean stuffs another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, except it’s more like slush with its melted status. He hopes the shock of cold stops his face from burning. It doesn’t, he can tell – Armin has the little grin on his face that says he knows he’s nailed it. “Jean, if that’s what you want, you’ve got to start slow, I think. Chat with him without thinking about screwi – jumping into his pants,” Armin corrects when he sees Jean’s face get redder. “Eh, who knows, maybe you’ll realize you prefer him as a friend after you know him a bit more.”

“That is absolutely fascinating. Jean has somebody he likes?”

Armin turns around in his seat and grins at the girl standing behind him, a notepad in her hand. “Hey, Mina.”

Mina smiles and walks forward to lean against their table. “Hello boys. Wanted to see if you guys wanted more ice cream. Millius and Nack are driving me crazy.”

“Let me guess, singing the _Dotting you everywhere_ song?”

“Sometimes I hate our boss,” Mina says, rolling her eyes. “Who let him write that atrocity? But nevermind that.” She turns a curious gaze to Jean, noting his still red face and the way he’s avoiding her gaze. “Who’s Jean in love with this time?”

“Guy named Marco, but I’ve never met him before.”

“Marco no last name?”

“Oh god, no, Armin, stop right there,” Jean says with a look of horror. Armin knowing is one thing. Mina knowing, then telling Millius and Nack, the latter of whom is the most gossipy guy Jean has ever known – soon the whole world will know about it. About the joke he had made, but that’s less important compared to the fact that somehow, he just knows that _Marco_ will hear about his crush.

“I’m under orders, Mina,” Armin says gravely, a twinkle in his eye which translates into _I’ll tell you later_. Jean is doomed. Doomed in this pastel doll house with its pornographic ice cream. “Can I have, um…‘Wall Maria’, please. And Jean will have ‘Wall Rose’. My treat,” he says when Jean starts to protest he doesn’t need anymore ice cream, even if that’s his favourite item on the menu, he needs alcohol.

Mina’s grin is as disturbing as Armin’s twinkly eyes. She scribbles their orders on her notepad and says, “Okay, I was just curious. We’re hiring more part-timers, ’cos Millius has to take care of his niece a few more times a week, and we got a Marco submitting an application. I don’t remember his last name though. Any of you guys interested, by the way?”

“Got my hands full with research,” Armin says, apologetic.

“ _Wings_ ,” Jean says as an answer.

“Pity. Well, I doubt it’s the same Marco in any case.”

“What are the chances, right?” Jean says with a small smile.

The afternoon turns into Armin counseling him over more ice cream even as Jean _knows_ , he swears that at that very moment Eren is calling Marco and having a lovey-dovey chat over the phone with him. Armin’s reminder that Eren and Mikasa are visiting his family for the weekend does not make it into his head. And he forgets all about part-timers while scooping the delicious but horribly named concoctions into his mouth.

But sometimes he forgets that the gods really dislike him and that the odds tend not to work in his favour. Three days later, after a shift where he avoids talking to Eren and Eren gets increasingly pissed off at him, and Jean mopes because Marco did not visit on Monday, Armin drags him to eat ice cream again so that they can work on their module project. And none other than Marco no last name is standing at the counter, looking up and saying, “Welcome to _Dots of Pleasure_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the tremendous support! I hope you guys are enjoying this, it means a lot to me when you comment :)


	4. Step Four: Bring the Water to a Boil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which ice cream preferences are learnt and plans are made.

Step Four: Bring the Water to a Boil

It takes Jean gripping Armin’s shoulder hard to keep from falling. Or tripping. Or whatever his body wants to do at the sight of Marco at the counter, that white chef-cap-hat thing on top of his head and an apron around his torso. The guy looks good in an apron. Jean is going to eat ‘Wall Rose’ forever if he can see Marco in an apron.

While Jean seems to drift away in his own world, Armin looks between them, puts two and two together, and smiles. It’s not a nice smile. It’s a smile that promises he has more material for his blackmail book. For his part Marco fidgets and blinks, probably wondering why these two customers have come to a sudden stop after entering the parlour, one gaping at him with his mouth open, and the other looking like the devil incarnate. Then he brightens up.

“Hey! Aren’t you Jean, from the coffee place?”

Armin has to elbow Jean in the side before he says, “Y-yeah.” His voice is doing its squeaky thing. He clears his throat and says, deeper and certainly more suave, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Fancy seeing you here,” Marco says with a grin. “You like ice cream?”

_Not really, but I would love to make you scream_ is the first thought that flashes across his mind. He opens his mouth to put thought into audible, seductive words, when Armin interrupts him with a smooth, “ _Dots_ has the best ice cream in town after all. Right, Jean?” His eyes flash a warning as though he knows what Jean had been thinking.

Eren and Armin really are best friends, in sync when it comes to butting into Jean’s affairs, he thinks with an internal growl. To Marco he says, “Yeah. The owner’s a little strange though.”

He thinks he might melt when Marco laughs. “He sure is! But he’s a nice guy.” He taps his fingers on the register and says, “Today’s recommendation is ‘That Colossal Thing’, in case you wanna know.”

“Oh, Jean knows what I want. You’ll probably want some time to think of what to get, right?” Armin says.

He would? Jean blinks at Armin for a moment and catches the exasperation in Armin’s expression. Oh. _Oh_. “R-right, yeah, there’s so much to choose from. Why don’t, um, why don’t you take a seat first, Armin? I’ll join you after I’ve ordered?”

Armin seems to be trying to bite back his laughter. “Alright. Nice meeting you,” he says with a nod and small wave to Marco before going to find an empty booth, a tiny skip to his steps the whole time. Jean is left to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants and grin at Marco who is smiling back, if a little confused at the way Jean just cannot seem to control his happy expression.

“Um, so…” Marco says after the silence stretches too long, “do you want me to recommend you stuff? Or you can try the ice cream?”

“Yeah,” Jean breathes out, having been too focused on the way Marco’s lips move to really understand what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry?” Marco asks, brows furrowing. “Yes to…you want to try some flavours?”

_All the flavours **you** can offer me_. A tiny voice in his head that sounds like Armin’s says a very vehement _NO_ to him voicing this thought. Jean clears his throat and says, “Oh, um…maybe the – ” he squints and blanches at the name – “‘Furry Beast’? Who named this shit?”

He wishes he can clap his hands over his mouth, because he did not mean to say that, what would Marco think of his uncultured self? To his relief Marco just snorts and says, “Our dotty old man, that’s who. Gimme a sec, I’ll grab some of it for you.” He pulls the mask over his nose and mouth and grabs one of those plastic spoons, sliding open the glass panel and bending over. The view from behind would have been perfect, Jean thinks. He has to swallow at the sudden flood of saliva and try to beat his brain into thinking good thoughts. Not dirty thoughts. It does not work until Marco straightens up.

Even with his mouth hidden behind the mask, from the way his eyes crinkle Jean knows he’s smiling. Can he be any more of an angel? An angel who is handing him a green plastic spoon with some brown-and-white ice cream on it. Jean takes it on auto-pilot and stuffs it into his mouth, not registering the taste, only aware of Marco studying him to see his reaction to the ice cream.

“Is it good?” Marco asks.

It’s ice cream Marco served, of course it’s good. “Uh huh.”

“Would you like that, then?”

Where are the rules to this sort of thing? He doesn’t want to be the jerk who tries every flavour only to decide on the first one he tried, but this is the golden chance Armin had given him to talk with Marco without interruption from nosy co-workers. Compromise. Yes, compromise is good, he’ll try a few more flavours while talking to Marco. “Could I try the ‘Dancing Fury’ please?”

“Sure,” Marco says, grabbing another plastic spoon before he slides open the panel. As nice as it would be to imagine what Marco would look like from behind, Jean reminds himself of his goal, as well as the fact that Armin would be pissed if he came back from this with no results.

“Are you – um, are you a student here, Marco?”

Yes, good, that’s a nice, normal question to ask.

“An exchange student, actually. At Trost,” Marco says, voice slightly muffled.

“Trost? But I haven’t seen you there before!” How could Jean have not noticed Marco before, even if he’s an exchange student? It’s not like the campus is _that_ huge…okay, it kind of is, but everybody is bound to run into everybody as long as they’re in the same college.

“Which year are you in, Jean?” Marco asks as he passes Jean the spoon of ice cream.

It turns out to be a citrusy mix with a slight tang of spice in it. Jean swallows it quickly and goes through mild brain freeze before he says, “Second.”

“I’m in my third year,” Marco explains. Jean can hear Marco’s grin when he says, “And I’m not surprised we haven’t run into each other. It’s a huge campus. Compared to Ermiha, that is.”

Isn’t Ermiha the college that the really smart attend, where only the top five percent of the country can gain admittance to? Jean knows Armin had gotten an offer to attend Ermiha, but he had chosen Trost for its excellent psychology department. Jean suddenly feels very small next to Marco. Marco must be a genius.

As though Marco knows what he’s thinking, which Jean doesn’t rule out because he seems to be in the line of genius that Armin belongs to, he says, “Trost is great. The governance and politics programme is especially good, the professors in Ermiha said. And I agree.”

“Governance and politics? I’m majoring in that!” Jean says, excitement building in him. So there’s a chance that he might be able to run into Marco in the college, they could study together, do all these cool discussions – Jean resolves to find out more about the three thousand level courses and maybe attempt to take one or two next semester.

“Oh, so is Eren!” Marco says with a sort of quietly happy tone.

If there’s a time for him to feel like he’s been lifted on a euphoric high only to be smashed into a fifty meter tall wall, this is it. Right. That guy is also the same major. Another reason why he makes Jean’s life hell, with his idealism and passion and the many debates they get into when they share the same class. He knows the professors blanch when they see both of them in the same room. Or leap for joy at the thought of more discussion erupting, courtesy of Eren not being able to keep his trap shut. That’s not the main point now though, even if the soft look in Marco’s eyes makes Jean’s heart ache. He grips onto the spoon tighter and clears his throat. “Right. Yeah.” Why oh _why_ must Eren be present even at this time?

“Ah, sorry, I got carried away. Do you want to try more flavours?”

“Maybe just one more,” Jean says, grabbing at the chance, eyes scanning over the flavours. He makes a face at one of them. “‘Sweet Armour’, then. Your boss has interesting – ” _horrible_ , really – “naming sense.”

Marco laughs as he digs at the ice cream. “Millius and Nack have been making a story out of them and telling it to me. It’s even worse than the shop song. Something about the Furry Beast setting out to conquer Wall Rose with his Sweet Armour.”

“Before falling to the Flaming Hot Lady guarding Wall Maria?”

Marco laughs harder at the thought. It makes Jean grin like an idiot, hearing him like that. “Yeah! Exactly like that!” He passes the ice cream, a curious mix of red and off-white with yellow chunks in it. Jean doesn’t even care about the ice cream anymore. He just wants to hear Marco laugh more. He pops the ice cream into his mouth, swallows it without tasting anything, and grins again.

“So what would you like? Wouldn’t want to keep your friend waiting, yeah?” Marco asks.

Armin will wait, he’s probably watching the whole thing so that he can blackmail Jean later, for sure. If Jean’s lucky Marco will be here for a while more. He can memorize all the ice cream flavours, make a story that Marco will laugh at. He nods to himself, forgetting that Marco is looking at him.

“Um, Jean?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Ice cream order?”

“Oh. Right. Um, ‘Wall Maria’ for Armin, and – ” he takes a deep breath to steel himself – “what’s your favourite, Marco?”

Marco pauses in typing in the orders and looks at Jean, eyes wider. “Mine? Um…‘Wall Sina’, I guess?”

“Okay, I’ll take that, then. Double scoop each.”

Marco blinks and says, slowly, “So you tried those flavours, and in the end you decided to get what I like?”

That might have been a stupid move in retrospect. Something even a person as dense as the Forest of Giant Trees can see through. He has dug his way into this grave, so he supposes there’s so help for it. “Um…sorry?” Jean says, voice going meek.

To his surprise Marco bursts out laughing again. “Next time, when you want to find out something, just ask from the start, Jean.” He keys in the orders and Jean takes the opportunity to turn his face away to hide the flush. “Unsubtlety is your middle name, huh?”

He feels his throat going dry. “What?”

Marco shakes his head. “Nevermind. I’ll bring the ice cream to your table then. Or Mina will.”

Since when had Mina been here? His senses had all been honed in on Marco that he hadn’t even noticed another human presence. When Jean turns to look at her she has the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever seen before. His face turns redder, though he hadn’t thought it possible.

“I just didn’t want to intrude,” she explains with the sweet type of voice that could convince people to commit homicide.

“Why would you be intruding?” Marco asks with a small smile, his head cocked to one side. The length of neck that is exposed makes Jean gulp.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly add on to the conversation,” Mina says, shooting a sly side glance at Jean. “I didn’t know you knew Jean, Marco.”

“We met at the coffee place. _Wings_ , I think it’s called,” Marco says.

“Ah. Isn’t Jean a smashing barista?”

“He makes wonderful coffee,” Marco agrees.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Jean,” she says, which has the effect of making Marco look at him as well. Jean wishes he can make Mina shut up – at this rate his crush is going to be not so secret anymore. If only he could make Millius and Nack magically appear and sing the _Dotting you everywhere_ song to her so she can stop right there. He has to say something, anything to make her stop saying stuff.

“Um…um…thanks,” he mumbles. In his head he can hear Eren saying, complete with crossed arms and raised eyebrows, _That was lame, Jean Kirchstein_. Louder, he asks, “D’you think I can have your number, Marco?”

The speed with which Marco’s face goes blank with confusion and Mina’s spasms in an effort to control her laughter is amazing. That was so not what Jean meant to say. He had meant to say something to counter the lame-ness of his previous stuttering statement.

“Um!” Jean flails around a bit. “I meant, I just thought, since we’re studying governance and all! At Trost! We could hang out…and chat…”

“Excuse me,” Mina squeaks before she ducks into their staff room. Seconds later they can hear muffled peals of laughter from behind the door along with some dull thumps. Much like the thumps of people banging their fists on the floor or the wall. Jean makes a valiant attempt to ignore that and meet Marco’s eyes.

“I just…it would be cool to – ” What had Armin said? His mind is a jumbled mess of “friends” and “pants” and “make slow love” which does not add up or make sense.

“Sure.”

“You know, get to know you, bring you around town a bit – huh?”

Marco shrugs, an easy movement that matches the light expression on his face. “I said, sure. Give me a sec.” He grabs one of those scrap pieces of paper that always lie around any workplace and a pen from near the register to scribble his number in large, looping writing. When he passes the paper to Jean he takes it with a numb sort of realization, his mind automatically imprinting the number in the middle of his jumbled thoughts.

“I – thanks?” Jean says, half expecting the paper in his hands to explode and for someone to jump out from the corner declaring he’s part of a gag show. _Is this the real life?_ His mind sings in a high, sonorous tone.

“ _Is this just fantasy?_ ” Marco sings, a mischievous edge to his smile.

Besides the fact that the sound of Marco singing will accompany his night time fantasies now, he is starting to get genuinely freaked out. “Can you read minds?”

“Nah, you said it out loud.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Incorrect line.”

“Uh – caught in a landslide?” Jean says, not sure what he’s even doing anymore.

“No escape from reality?” Marco deadpans back, still that wry little grin on his face. “You’re supposed to sing it, not sound like a lost sheep.”

Part of Jean wants to scream _just take me already, you perfect being_. The smaller but saner part makes him say, “Ah.”   

“Yep. Now I do think your friend has waited a long time for you. And I’ll have to prepare the ice creams, alright?” Marco says, giving Jean another smile before he slips the mask back over his nose and mouth. “Later, Jean.”

“L-later,” Jean says, voice faint, the idea that the note in his hand is real and not part of some horrible gag show finally sinking in. _Later_ means they will talk more? Okay, now he’s sure there’s something that’s going to go wrong, because of some guy named Murphy who invented a terrible cruel law. So while he wanders in the vague direction of where Armin is sitting, he grasps at a few important details, such as the fact that he has Marco’s number, Marco can sing, Armin has blackmail material for the rest of his life, and did he forget to mention that _he has Marco’s number_?

By some miracle he wanders to the correct booth and slumps in his seat. Armin, already halfway through the first draft of their work, glances up at him and says, “That was really interesting.”

“I have Marco’s number,” he whispers.

“I know.”

Not even Armin pressing research notes into his hands is enough to dampen his mood. Nor the fact that it is a very sweetly smiling Mina who delivers their ice cream and confers in hushed voices with Armin while Jean pokes at ‘Wall Sina’. It’s Marco’s favourite ice cream. Jean is going to memorize every nuance of this flavour.

Life is pretty damn awesome at the moment.

.

There is a list of people everybody – even the most peaceable, most loving person on earth – should hate. To Jean, Eren takes the top of the list. There’s a long and reasonable explanation behind this. There’re years and years of history. It’s a story full of righteous indignation and deserving of tragic tears. It begins thus.

Long ago, as a suitably cool and cynical high schooler, Jean had met Mikasa Ackerman, and he had fallen in love with her. Who could blame him? She has gorgeous black hair the shade of a raven’s wing, power hidden in her lean, toned frame, dainty yet full lips, eyes that could cut you if you so much as breathed wrong in Eren Jaegar’s direction –

One can thus conclude his very strong dislike of Eren Jaegar has less to do with reason and more to do with his first love.

He had spent the whole of freshman year trying to court Mikasa, to completely no avail. The girl swept past him without so much as a glance when they moved between classes. And when she smiled it was at Eren, who hung out with her with an easy familiarity. The second person she would smile at was Armin Arlelt, and together they were a trio of beauty, brains, and…a bastard.

Jean liked Armin well enough. Armin is smart and perceptive. He picked up on Jean’s crush for Mikasa before anyone else did, and had reacted with the appropriate mixture of sympathy and practicality.

“Give up on her,” he had said, tone brooking no argument. Jean had gaped at him. Armin shook his head and said, “For your sake, I don’t advise your course of action.”

Considering Jean had taken little to no action except following Mikasa around and mooning over her to anyone who would listen, he hadn’t been quite sure what “course of action” Armin had imagined. Something like him climbing to the top of the flag pole and bellowing a love song, perhaps. Not that it hadn’t crossed his mind before.

He tried to regain his usual confidence and smirked. “Who says? Just you watch, she’ll be my girlfriend soon enough.”

Armin sighed, in the same way people sighed when they were explaining something complicated to a person far too dumb to understand it. It was the typical sigh of long-suffering patience that he must have honed over the years. “Jean,” he said slowly, drawing out his name, “Mikasa does not care about anyone who is not Eren. For reasons. Which I can’t say,” he hurriedly added when he saw Jean open his mouth. Jean closed his mouth and grunted, gesturing for Armin to go on. “She’s very single-minded. I doubt she’ll ever notice you, even if you were to strip naked and run through the cafeteria. Her only thought will be whether Eren has enough to eat.”

“But, but she notices you! And she hangs out with you!” Jean protests weakly. Nevermind that Armin is the smartest little bugger the universe has ever seen, surely Jean has some special quality that Mikasa will appreciate too?

“I’m an anomaly,” Armin said, looking thoughtful. “I’ve known Eren since before she came into our lives, so I think she lumps me in the same group as him. We pretty much grew up together. The rest of the people she just…sort of tolerates and works with. But we’re getting off-track. To be blunt, Jean, you’ll never exist to her.”

Jean had refused to despair. He knew Armin came with good intentions, and so he had patted the guy’s shoulder and said that he would at least try to forget her. Which was, of course, easier said than done.

Then the universe decided to conspire against him and their biology teacher partnered him and Eren up for a project. Something about taking care of a plant and drawing observation charts and sketches, maybe singing to it or talking to it to see if plants reacted to human emotions. For this highly sensitive project, Jean and Eren got along about as well as oil and water did, and it was a miracle their plant hadn’t wilted and died. So Mikasa finally took notice of him, but not in the way Jean had wanted her to.

Eren had done his fair share of picking fights, and Mikasa would berate him, sometimes even pulling his ear despite his protest. In those moments Jean would think, his heart palpitating wildly, _Mikasa is protecting me! Mikasa is on my side! She noticed me!_

Then Jean would look smug and provoke Eren, though he would never mean to, really, and then it would be Mikasa’s death glare focused on him even if she was four tables away with Annie Leonhart. Somehow, Jean and Eren’s plant survived, Armin and Mina’s plant flourished, and Mikasa and Annie’s plant came as close to wilting as anyone had ever seen. It had been an interesting term.

There were only so many death glares and threats to one’s manhood a man could take. So Jean took Armin’s advice and tried to observe Mikasa from afar, hoping that would quell his desire for her, and after one year and countless brawls with Eren Jaegar, he came to note a few things.

  1. Eren Jaegar is a bastard.
  2. Mikasa is only interested in whether Eren and Armin have pulses and are happy.
  3. Armin is too smart for his own good, why is he hanging out around Eren again?
  4. Eren actually looks good when he smiles, which will cause Mikasa to smile, which will cause Armin’s smile to widen. Are they in some tryst everybody else except him knows about?
  5. Eren Jaegar is still a bastard.



Thus Jean’s first love came to an undramatic end, after his realization that while Mikasa was able to work with other people, she only cared for the two closest to her. It was safe to say that Mikasa did not even know Jean’s first love was her. In their third year when they worked together in gym, Jean had thought that his feelings would burn again, but while their teamwork was good Jean’s heartbeat never raced as it did when he was a snotty fifteen year old. Albeit less snotty than Eren had been.

Mikasa is still beautiful. She has grown even more beautiful, in fact. But Armin had once, upon an ice cream induced conversation, likened Jean’s love to a love for a beautiful, unobtainable artwork, and Jean had been forced to agree.

It still does not mean he hates Eren any less now. Or the way Eren has now grown out of his gangly teenage body into someone who moves with assurance and confidence, with just that edge of raw, uncurbed passion. He really hates that. But he’s digressing.

On the list of People Everybody Should Hate, there’s Murphy coming in second, whose law is simple and damning to the whole human race, especially so to Jean, and especially when he’s in the supermarket and the queue he chooses is always the slowest one. But considering that nobody is sure if Murphy exists, he comes in a far second after Eren.

In fact, Murphy is now probably going to lose his place to whoever had invented the phrase “if it’s too good to be true…it probably is.” After two hours of being on a high, with occasional trips back to earth to pull his own weight as a project partner and to stare at Marco chatting with Mina behind the counter, the door to the parlour opens and Eren breezes in.

“Oh, Eren!” Marco says.

“Hey, Marco, Mina. So you did get the job,” Eren says with a smile aimed at Marco.

“I do hope that wasn’t anything important you were holding,” Armin says with a mournful look at the crushed notes in Jean’s hands. Something tells him this is familiar, only the first time he had been holding a coffee cup and Nanaba had managed to salvage it. Armin makes pained noises while Jean’s fist tightens around the notes.

“Yeah, thanks for the rec,” Marco says. When Jean turns to look he wants to smile stupidly at the beam on Marco’s face and strangle Eren at the same time. Maybe smile stupidly while strangling Eren. “Just finished classes?”

Eren nods, a flush on his cheeks like he had popped by the gym as well. The thought makes Jean scowl and remember that he has to hit the gym sometime soon, can’t lose to Eren in the muscle department. “Wanted to see how you were doing, and if you wanna hang out this Sunday. Reiner and Bert can get us discounted tickets to _Land of Warriors_ ,” Eren says, rummaging around in his bag for his phone. “Have you been there?”

“The themepark? No, I haven’t,” Marco says, eyes lighting up. The notes in Jean’s hands must be beyond salvation by now, judging by the way Armin is re-inscribing everything on a fresh piece of paper.

“Hope you aren’t afraid of rides then,” Eren says with a full-toothed grin. “I went with Armin and Mikasa a long time ago. Now they have new rides. Mina, you might like the horror house.” Mina’s eyes take on an unholy glint and she mutters something about bringing Millius there. Eren fishes out his phone and swipes at the screen, scrolling through his messages. “Yep. Thirty percent discount, they said. We’ll just have to meet them at the gate.”

Armin makes a little hum, like he’s storing the information. Jean starts making elaborate plans to become a full-fledged stalker on Sunday. Armin will become his accomplice. They will have ski masks and everything.

“Awesome. I’ll call you later?” Marco says with such a soft, happy look on his face that Jean sort of melts in his seat.

“Sure. I’ll go pick Mikasa up soon. Give me, eh…double scoop of ‘Hunter and Prey’, cone.”

“On it,” Marco positively sings, slipping the mask over his mouth and nose. Instead of watching Marco scoop the ice cream up Eren hums and lets his eyes wander around the parlour. Jean sinks lower in his seat, trying not to be seen. But of course Eren has a hyper-radar for his best friend.

“Oh, Armin!” Eren says, making his way over. His expression and tone couldn’t be any more different when he notices Jean attempting to camouflage with the seat. “Jean too?”

“Hey,” Armin says, far too used to Eren and Jean glaring at each other to make any fuss. “So you’re going to _Warriors_ on Sunday?”

Jean has to remember that these two have no boundaries and will cheerfully admit to eavesdropping on each other’s conversations. “Yeah. Showing Marco around town a bit.”

“Oh?” Armin says, sounding both scheming and innocent at the same time.

Eren narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Armin says, using his normal voice again. “Have fun, yeah?”

“Hmm, sure,” Eren says with a shrug, still looking a bit suspicious of Armin. “You wanna join? You’ll like Marco, Armin. He’s cool. I guess you can join too, Jean,” he says as though it’s an afterthought.

Before Jean can say anything Armin raises his eyebrows and asks, “Are you sure, Eren? It seems like Marco thinks it’s just the two of you.”

Eren blinks then turns around to face the counter. “Hey, Marco!”

Still concentrating on balancing the second scoop of ice cream on top of the first, Marco shouts back, “Yeah?”

“Mind if Armin and Jean join us?” Eren says. Armin groans into his hand, mingled disbelief and exasperation in his expression. Trust Eren to go announce his date to the whole world. Jean slips lower in his seat and makes a strangled sound.

Marco looks over with a warm smile. “Not a problem! Your ice cream’s ready, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Eren hollers back though there’s no need to, since their booth is close to the counter. He turns back to them and says, “Up to you guys. Mikasa might be interested too, I’ll ask her later. Let me know, yeah? See you at work, Jean.”

Jean mumbles something that might be “goodbye” or “I very much want to rip your balls off now”. Eren gives him a weird look, waves at Armin, then goes to collect his ice cream.

“I didn’t ask for those sprinkles,” he says when he takes the ice cream and drops the cash onto the counter.

“On the house,” Marco says, “you mentioned you like these.”

They exchange grins before Eren leaves the shop, the first tinkling notes of _Dotting you everywhere_ sounding in his wake. After a while Marco sighs and goes back to wiping the counter, with occasional glances at Mina who seems to be giggling too much. Armin makes soothing noises at Jean, who’s too far gone to notice anything.

“Take it as a chance to know Marco more, Jean,” Armin says, patting his hand.

“Eren – ” he says in a sort of groan – “he – ”

“Was kind of an idiot? Yeah, I’m pretty sure Marco thought it’s a date, though he’s too nice to say no to us coming. But Jean, isn’t it a good chance to hang out with Marco and Eren?”

He starts nodding before registering the last part of Armin’s sentence. “Who says I want to hang out with Eren?”

“Slip of the tongue,” Armin says with a calm voice. “Jean. It’s Tuesday. _Warriors_ is Sunday. There’s four full days before then.”

Jean looks at Armin, uncomprehending. Armin adopts his patient tone and says, “You got Marco’s number. Are you not going to take the chance to know him a bit more before Sunday?”

“Oh.” Jean sits up straighter and looks at his neglected, melting ice cream (‘The Colossal Thing’ this time, after Armin insisted they try something else other than the Walls). He’s sure his eyes are gleaming with renewed hope when he looks at Armin. “You’re a genius, Armin!”

“I suppose,” Armin says, and not even in that proud or arrogant tone, but in a matter of fact way after more than ten years of people telling him the same thing. Jean swears he’ll treat Armin to all the ‘Wall Maria’s he wants after he gets together with Marco. Because with these precious digits that he now has their getting together is a certainty. He expresses his glee by clenching his fist harder around the ruined notes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm always overwhelmed by the amount of love people have for this fic! Thank you, please continue to enjoy, and as always comments are appreciated and loved :)


	5. Step Five: Pour the Water into the Carafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which important phone conversations happen and a theme park is visited.

The thing about technology is it makes communication so much easier. Jean’s mother used to sigh lovingly and talk about how she and his father would arrange to meet the day before, the anxious heart-thumping minutes before they would meet, wondering if he had decided to show her up, fretting about every second that ticks by, and when he does appear, experiencing that weird sensation where her heart decides that it is like a cart being pulled in different directions by four spooked horses.

Okay, so maybe that isn’t the best imagery to think of. Point being, having a phone and being able to call the love of one’s life is supposed to, well, make things better, easier, something like that. Jean used to gag whenever his mum told him the same story. Now it does feel like his heart is thumping and threatening to jump into his lungs or his stomach or his ankles all at once.

Wednesday evening finds Jean sitting on his bed and staring at his phone. His phone screen looks back at him innocently. If it had eyes it would be looking between him and the small note sitting beside with eight digits scrawled on it. Jean decides to change his position. Connie had once showed him the punishment pose his mother made him take – apparently it helps one reflect on one’s actions. Shifting onto his knees on the bed, Jean takes a moment to make sure his shins are under him, his feet touching, before he sits back on his shins.

That isn’t too bad. He feels a lot taller than he had been previously. It feels weird to have his butt (a very fine one too) on his feet, but it doesn’t seem much of a punishment pose. Happily, he goes back to staring at the phone and the note beside it. His phone screen is blank from inactivity. For two minutes, all he does is breathe in, and out, and in, and out –

Two voices begin warring in his head. Perhaps warring isn’t quite the right word. They’re both saying the same thing in different tones. The one he dislikes, with Eren’s annoying aggressive voice, says _I could have killed two men, buried their bodies, gone for a jog, and bought milk and eggs before you get to talking with your angel._ The other voice, the one he tries to listen to because it’s in Armin’s far less grating voice and is made of good sense, says _It’s just a chat, Jean, Marco is nice and he was willing to hang out with you…please call him before we all fall asleep here._

They just don’t know how momentous this occasion is. He looks at the calendar, where he had already put a huge red circle around today’s date. Two hours ago his mother had come in, stared at the calendar, laughed her ass off, and proceeded to inform his father about how “her baby is growing up”. His father had come to ask whether he needed The Talk again. Jean wants a new family. Preferably one where the spouse is Marco.

All he had written was “FIRST CALL WITH M”. So what if he had drawn a tiny halo on top of the ‘M’? It in no way diminishes the importance of this date, his mother had no right, absolutely no right to laugh at him.

Huffing, Jean picks up the phone and stares at its blank screen once more.

_Have you actually, for real, lost your balls? Do you need me to rip them off and feed them to you, since they are pretty useless just hanging there anyway?_ The grating voice says.

_What he meant was, it’s just a phone call, you’re trying to be friends with him, right?_ The other voice says with a soothing tone.

“Alright. Alright!” he says out loud. Somewhere outside his door he hears a muffled giggle.

Still sitting on his shins (which are starting to go numb), he finally picks up the paper and enters the first number. That’s not too bad. The second to fifth numbers go in smoothly enough too. In fact, he only realizes after a few seconds that he had typed in all eight numbers and his thumb is hovering over the call button.

He squeezes his eyes shut, remembers Marco grinning at him and having a conversation with him and _singing_ with him, and he presses on the button. When the ringing starts he thinks he almost has a heart attack. It’s connecting. His phone is connecting him straight to heaven. While the phone rings half his brain is a white mist of panic, the other half is busy imagining the conversation they’ll have.

_“Hello?”_

_“Hey, Marco, this is Jean.”_

_“Oh, hey! I was waiting for you to call.”_

_“You were? I wasn’t aware I’ve left such a gaping hole in your heart.”_

_“Oh, **you**. Of course I would be waiting. I have so much to tell you.” _

_“About what, hmm?”_

_“Well, I’ve been thinking about the house we would have, see.”_

_“With a white picket fence and a dog?”_

_“However did you guess? Oh, **Jean**.” _

_“It’s your heart I can read, baby.”_

_“Marry me.”_

Jean almost has a fit of giggles. It’s going to be beautiful. He takes another deep breath and chokes on saliva when the ringing tone ends and Marco says, “ _Hello?_ ”

He is supposed to say “Hey, Marco, it’s Jean.” Instead, he coughs and tries to dislodge the saliva from his throat.

“ _Um, hello? Who’s this?_ ”

He clutches at his throat and manages to gasp, like a fish out of water, “J-Jean.”

There is a pause at the other end of the line which goes on so long Jean wonders whether he had been speaking an alien language. Or, worse still, that Marco does not remember him. Then Marco says, “ _Oh! Hey, Jean. Are you okay?_ ”

This is not supposed to happen, he wails in his head. “Yeah. Um. Don’t worry.”

“ _Kay. If you’re sure._ ”

There is a long pause. Jean’s mind is blank. Even the two voices in his head are quiet.

“ _Um, Jean? You wanted to…talk?_ ”

Right, talk, the thing that humans do. “Y-yeah, just, um…how, how was your day? Were you at the university?”

He hears shifting on the other side and wonders if Marco is lying on his bed. The thought makes his stomach feel funny, almost like he is about to vomit. He squirms around on his shins and wonders why he can’t feel them anymore. “ _Yeah, I had class with Professor Anka. The one on diplomacy and deterrence. She’s really good. Intense sort of professor._ ”

Jean grins in triumph. He had taken Professor Anka’s two thousand level course on power and space before. “I’ve always been interested in that course, but I need enough credits to take that. She has a bit of an anti-government stance.”

“ _Really? How do you figure that?_ ”

Marco actually sounds interested. Jean stuffs a fist at his mouth to make sure he doesn’t emit any embarrassing noises while he figures out his thoughts. “Well, you should hear her talk about the government’s treatment of race issues. You know how Trost is historically an immigrant city?”

“ _Yes, only about half the population are native people? Born and bred on this soil._ ”

“That’s if you take the strict definition of _born_ and bred on this soil for three or four generations, otherwise less than thirty percent would be native. Anyway, when it comes to granting immigrants citizenship, it’s like pulling teeth. But the immigrants are making demands for their rights and all that, since they make significant economic contribution to Trost. It’s sort of a vicious cycle, really. Without immigrants there wouldn’t be enough working people to keep the economy running, but when these immigrants don’t have the rights that natives enjoy loads of them leave. Then you also have the income divide not getting any smaller. It’s a lot better than, say, twenty years ago – you don’t see that many beggars or homeless people around anymore. But many are still struggling to keep their families fed, and with the job selection restricted for immigrants it’s harder for those who aren’t rich to begin with to make a living. And – uh.” Jean’s face reddens when he realizes how much he has rambled. “But I’m, uh – this is really boring, I’m sorry – ”

“ _No! No, I can see you’re a natural at this,_ ” Marco says, warmth in his voice. While Jean struggles to keep his embarrassment in check it’s like Marco takes pity on him, because he says, “ _You know, when I was little, I dreamed of serving the president?_ ”

Jean imagines Marco, wide-eyed and idealistic. His heart does a strange, erratic thumping. “R-really? What, um, what changed?”

“ _I’m not sure if I can say that it has changed completely,_ ” Marco says slowly. Jean hears some shifting from the other end of the phone. He wonders if Marco is indeed lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, or if he’s curled at the end of a sofa. “ _I thought I’d be doing good to the nation, making changes, making people’s lives better. I’m not good at making the changes myself, it’s more like, helping the person who knows what changes to make. And I still think it’s possible. It’s just…it doesn’t seem as straightforward anymore. There’s corruption, and there are so many factors to consider._ ”

Marco pauses there. This time, Jean doesn’t feel compelled to fill the silence. Part of it is that Marco doesn’t seem to be waiting for him to say anything. The other part of it is that he has finally shifted off his shins and is silently screaming from the pins and needles attacking it. He rolls around on bed for a while, gritting his teeth against the painful flow of blood into his limbs.

_It’s going really well,_ one voice encourages in his head.

_You’re an idiot, what are you doing talking **politics** with him? _ The other says.

_But he’s interested,_ the first voice points out.

Jean rolls onto his back, after the pain has become bearable. “I woulda thought anyone who wants to work in the government is just aiming for the good life, you know. Good cash, power over people – all that.”

Marco huffs. It’s such an adorable sound Jean almost misses his next few words. “ _I’m not – it’s not an **easy** job, Jean._ ”

“Yeah, of course it isn’t. I think – I think your dream is admirable. Idealistic, but admirable.”

“ _…thanks,_ ” Marco says. Jean can hear the small smile in his voice and does a victory pump. “ _That’s a lot nicer than what Hitch said to me._ ”

Right. Now who’s this Hitch and does he have to worry about this person. “Hitch?” he asks, trying not to sound too suspicious.

“ _One of my friends in Ermiha. Well. I guess I could consider them friends. She’d be one of those you consider aiming for the good life._ ”

Jean nods to himself. Friends. Just friends. It would suck if Marco likes both guys and girls, because then Jean’s competition would have increased to include the whole world, but if she’s a friend he can accept that. He has enough to worry about already.

“ _Listen, Jean. I’m really happy you called_ – _”_

Something is definitely about to explode in Jean’s chest. His heart or his lungs or another organ he does not know the name of.

“ _– but I’ll have to go to sleep soon. I have an early class tomorrow._ ”

Oh. Sleep is the thing people need too. The organ that was about to explode deflates, leaving Jean making a sad face at his ceiling. On the other hand, that means Marco was most likely lying on his bed while talking to him. About politics, but it’s still a talk. And now he can occupy himself thinking of what Marco wears to sleep. “Right. Of course. It’s – it’s great talking to you. Can I…can I call you again? Or message?”

“ _Messaging is good, if I’m busy I’ll still be able to reply. G’night then?_ ”

“Marco!” he blurts out, a sudden thought making him frantic and unwilling to let Marco hang the phone just yet. He just has to find out for himself. “I – you’re really okay with me going to _Warriors_ as well? Um, and Armin and Mikasa too?”

He has to wait two erratic and loud heartbeats before Marco says, in a tone Jean isn’t quite sure how to interpret, “ _Yeah, it’s cool, really._ ”

“Oh. Oh, okay. Good night, then,” Jean says. How does one end a phone conversation? He feels like he’s been dropping through air all this time and is now only realizing he has no parachute to break the fall.

Marco chuckles. “ _Take care, Jean._ ”

Then he hangs up. He hangs up, and Jean is hearing that tone in his ear for a long time before he thinks of exiting the call and placing the phone down beside him.

A full minute goes by with him staring at the ceiling before he turns around, buries his face in a pillow, and begins screaming and mildly hyperventilating. From somewhere outside, he hears what is suspiciously like his mum laughing and his father sighing.

He is so going to add streaks of shining light to the halo he had drawn on his calendar. Who cares now whether Eren had a hundred phone calls with Marco? He doesn’t care what anyone else says, he had a deep and meaningful conversation and had seen into Marco’s heart and soul.

The wedding bells are going to ring any day now. He can see the white picket fence house, a dog running in their backyard, and Marco lounging in bed with only an overly large shirt on, sleepy-eyed and smiling. It’s too much for his heart to take. He rolls around on bed for a while, screeching into his pillow and making unintelligible noises, before he finally drifts off to the memory of Marco chuckling in his ear.

.

“You look even shittier than usual.”

“Shut it.”

“I think my eyes are gonna bleed if I look at you any longer.”

“It’s a wonder I haven’t died from internal bleeding every time I see you then.”

“I’m just surprised you haven’t been traded off by some horse seller. Oh, wait, even they wouldn’t want your ass.”

“Says the one who should have been certified criminally insane since birth.”

Jean is way sleepier than he can ever remember being. After a successful phone conversation on Wednesday, he had texted Marco Thursday night until the wee hours of Friday morning. Now Jean is the proud owner of several bits of important information, such as the fact that Marco’s favourite game is _Defence of the Giants_ and that his favourite character in _Lord of the Rings_ is Samwise Gangee. The result is him coming into work with heavy eye bags. But it is totally worth it. He swears he can feel Marco falling in love with him – the proof is every time Jean receives a text message with a smiley face in it. He does not know what it is if it is not true love. It even makes working with Eren just a little more bearable, though Jean still wants to let loose an unhappy growl.

“Not that I want to interrupt you guys, but can I get some coffee here?”

Both of them turn to the counter to see their first customer after a half hour lull, since it’s a slow afternoon. It is a good thing Connie had interrupted them, or Jean might have tried to carry out the desire to strangle Eren with the strings of his apron.

“Ah, sorry, Connie,” Eren says, going over to the counter after giving Jean a glare for good measure. Jean resists the urge to show him the finger. “Jean’s just being a grump.”

Connie snorts. “Sure ya ain’t the one baiting him?”

This is how Jean knows Connie is a true friend. He makes a face behind Eren’s back before staggering off to the work station, preparing to make a ginger latte for Connie and a mocha frappuccino for Sasha.

“He’s just asking to be baited, man. Ginger latte and mocha frapp then? Where’s Sasha?” Eren asks, tapping the orders into the system.

Connie jerks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating where Sasha is sitting at a table and typing on her laptop keyboard. “Yeah, the usual. Sasha’s updating the blog.”

“Which café this time?”

“ _Dots of Pleasure_. Some new flavours. And there’s a new cute boy there.”

Jean nearly spills milk over himself. “ _What_?” he asks in a hoarse voice.

“Oh, you mean Marco?” Eren asks while finding change for Connie. “He’s pretty cool. Exchange student at Trost.”

_He’s more than just pretty cool_ , Jean thinks in indignation, foaming the milk for the latte, not bothering with the art this time since there’s no need to impress Connie or Sasha. And if he isn’t ninety nine percent sure that Sasha and Connie are dating he would have been worried about Sasha noticing the cute boy and giving him more competition than he needs.

No, the real competition stands in front of him, with his stupid eyes and stupid hair and stupid grin as he tells Connie, “Some of us are heading to _Land of Warriors_ this Sunday. Reiner and Bert can get us discounted tickets. Wanna come along?”

What.

“What?” Jean manages to say out loud.

Eren shoots him a withering look. “Is that the only thing you’re capable of saying today, Jean?”

“But Marco is – and you – and I – ” Jean splutters, not sure what he’s trying to say. From Connie’s and Eren’s expression they seem equally bewildered, and Connie seems to be trying to suppress his laughter. “You can’t – ”

“Marco said he wants to get to know more people,” Eren cuts in, evidently tired of Jean expressing his vehement and valid opposition.

_But that’s not fair!_ Jean wants to say. It’s already unfair that Marco seems taken by Eren, now Jean won’t even have a chance of hanging out with Marco if there are going to be so many people. Especially people who Jean have known since high school – even if he is already a cool, suave person in high school, that does not mean some of them won’t think up of embarrassing stories to tell about him. All untrue, of course. _Still_.

“Um, I’m no expert, but I think that’s enough ice?” Connie suggests.

Jean looks at the blender with a lack of comprehension. It is filled to the top with ice cubes, which is possibly significant, though Jean can’t quite understand why at the moment.

Eren rolls his eyes. “Sorry about this idiot.”

“Naw, he’s your idiot to handle,” Connie says with a cheeky grin.

Eren and Jean shudder. At least they can agree that they never want to be associated as each other’s…whatever. “Don’t make me barf, Connie,” Eren says.

Jean tries to think of something witty to say. All his fuzzy mind can come up with is, “The idiot’s him.” The very same jerk who decided it would be a good idea to invite the whole world to get to know Marco and exponentially decrease the amount of time Jean would get to spend with his angel.

“I don’t hear any denial there!” Connie says with a guffaw, before he runs back to where Sasha is still typing madly with a determined, hungry glint in her eyes.

All of his friends are insane, Jean decides. He glares at the source of all his troubles, one Eren Jaegar who looks disgruntled at Connie’s suggestion.

“He’s still such a goofball,” Eren says, shaking his head as he wrestles the blender from Jean’s slack grip and empties the extra ice into the sink. “What is up with you? Jacked off all night?”

Jean’s face burns with the thought. In no place on earth should anyone even think of Eren Jaegar and jacking off in the same sentence. “Not everyone’s like you,” he says, dumping the coffee, chocolate, and milk into the blender once Eren hands it back to him. He ignores Eren staring at him while he prepares Sasha’s drink. After a while he fidgets and says, “I was texting people, alright?” He isn’t sure why, but he really wants to clear this up.

“Not like I wanted to know. Boring reason though,” Eren says, grabbing both the drinks and heading off to the customer seats. Before he goes through the swing doors, he pauses and looks back at Jean with a small frown. “Do us all a favour and go home early, will you? Rate you’re going you’ll break something before shift’s over.”

Despite his lack of sleep Jean musters up a cocky grin. “What’s this? Worried about me?”

Eren snorts. “Worried ’bout the shop, more like. You can get fired for all I care.” He uses his hip, accentuated by the apron, to bump against the swing doors. For a while Jean stares at the smooth movement. Maybe it is because his body lacks rest, but for a moment there he had actually been appreciating the sharp, no nonsense way in which his rival moves…

Right, that settles it. He is getting some good, proper rest tonight and tomorrow. After all, Sunday’s the big day, and it won’t do if he’s catching himself thinking unusual, nonsensical thoughts about the biggest tosser of the century. He nods to himself and nearly crashes into the sink with the move.

.

On Sunday, Jean wakes up at six in the morning and goes into a full blown panic. He calls the first person he can think of to help.

The phone rings on. And on. Jean bites his finger nails, squirming around on the covers until it is finally picked up. “ _WHAT?_ ”

Even through the phone Armin sounds murderous. Jean winces but hopes his friend understands it is an emergency. “Armin, help! It’s today!”

“ _Bloody what? What the hell, what time is it?_ ”

Yeah, that’s definitely a pissed off Armin Arlelt. He only cusses in extreme states of annoyance or anger. Jean ponders on the best way to tell the truth without getting gutted. “It’s – the sun is up?” he suggests.

“ _Are you trying to make sure you never get laid? Is that it, Jean?_ ”

Wow, okay, maybe he can start to understand why Eren and Armin are best friends, they both have their ways of threatening Jean’s manhood. Jean uses his best diplomatic voice and says, “I’ll treat you to all the ice cream you want for the rest of your life, Armin. In the name of One True Love, please help me.”

He waits a long, long while. So long he starts to think Armin might have fallen asleep again, until he hears, in a low hiss, “ _I’ll make sure you don’t forget that_.” Then Armin hangs up.

Is that a yes? That has to be a yes. Jean jumps out of bed and hurries to wash up and shower, so that when Armin arrives they can begin the important task of picking out clothes that will make Jean look so good Marco will instantly forget about Eren’s existence and swoon over him instead.

At seven, after Jean has made sure that he does not smell strange, he hears Armin greeting his mother at the front door, accept her offer of breakfast after it is prepared, footsteps up the stairs, and then his door is being pushed open. Armin stands there with an angelic smile that could have fooled anyone that had not known him for years. Standing there in his boxers, Jean thinks he might shrivel up from Armin’s waves of killing intent if it were not such an emergency. He looks forlornly from the explosion of clothes on his bed to Armin.

“…in the name of One True Love?” he says once again.

“Oh, shut it,” Armin says, closing the door and dropping the smile to glower at Jean. “I’ll have you know Mikasa and Eren kept me up last night with a _Godfather_ marathon. Do you remember the horse head scene? I was thinking about it all the way here. And how I might possibly re-enact it.”

Jean’s retort about the horse jokes is on the tip of his tongue before he swallows it down. No good to antagonize his saviour. “All the ice cream for life?” he tries.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Armin says, sharp eyes alternating between scrutinizing the pile of clothes and glaring at Jean.

“I’ll be your research slave,” he says, getting desperate. He can see his personal time flying away with this offer.

Armin’s eyes take on a glint this time. “Deal. Now get your ass here and try these on,” he says, rooting out a pair of black pants Jean doesn’t know he owns and a blue and gold shirt. Armin, not in the mood to wait, throws them at Jean and begins sorting out the clothes in a system only he understands.

“Thank you, thank you. I really don’t know what to choose, I mean, what’s good to wear to a theme park that’s easy to move in but also looks, you know, nice – ”

“Jean?”

Jean looks up from where he’s hopping into the pants. Armin has an expression like he had never seen anything more irritating. Jean gulps and asks, “Yeah?”

“ _Shut. Up._ ”

After that there’s nothing but following orders and a non-stop switch of clothes.

At eight, when they are seated at the Kirchstein family table and are chewing pancakes, Jean realizes that Armin had made him go through no less than fifteen changes of clothes, even stuff that is obviously too large or too small or entirely unsuitable for a theme park visit, like a bulky winter coat made for the thickest of snow storms. Jean narrows his eyes at Armin and says, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Armin looks happy now that he has some food in his system. He glances up from his pancakes and asks, with that same angelic look he had when he first arrived, “Did what on purpose?”

Jean opens his mouth, about to retort, when he remembers that he did ask for help, and Armin was prissy, but he did manage to dress Jean in something cool and theme park suitable at the same time. He sighs, looks away from Armin’s innocent eyes, and mutters, “Nevermind.”

“Glad to hear it. So Eren was asking if you’re driving me there,” Armin says, scrolling down the text message he had just received. “He also asks if I’ve written my will, since you’ll be driving.”

Jean scoffs. “Puh-lease. Who in their right mind decided to give the raging psycho a driving license?”

“You guys are as bad as each other. So I’ll let him know you’re driving me there?” Armin stuffs another bite of pancake into his mouth and starts typing.

“Sure. And, um – ” he takes a sip of coffee to calm his jittery nerves before he says – “I’ll pick up Marco along the way, maybe?”

Armin glances at him with an unreadable expression before he sighs and places his phone down. “Jean, Eren has arranged to pick up Marco,” he explains, tone much gentler than in the earlier morning.

“Oh. Oh, okay, well, I was just, you know, wondering. Since Marco’s new to town and – yeah,” he mumbles into his cup, avoiding Armin’s gaze. It’s hard to hide anything from an observant friend, so Jean pretends to be fascinated with the coffee dregs.

“Eren’s going to be driving, and you know what he’s like when he drives. All his mind on the road and – ”

“Cursing all the drivers who cut into his path?” Jean chuckles and shakes his head, remembering the horror of Eren’s mad driving. “You remember when he was driving us to a concert and there was a traffic jam? We were all singing along to the radio, right, and Eren was just staring ahead like he could make the cars move through, I don’t know what, sheer will or something. And he didn’t even seem bothered by us singing, he just had this stupid bloody focus on the road? And then there was this motorcyclist that thought he could just drive in between lanes and he scratched the side of the car, and the idiot was shouting ‘ _you inconsiderate little fuck_ , how would you like it if _I_ scratched a bloody line across your face’ and that guy was so scared he zoomed off and nearly crashed against the railing of the bridge?” Jean snorts and thinks of how Eren had been spitting with anger, eyes flashing like he would get into a brawl with the guy then and there. The idiot hasn’t changed since then, that single-minded focus like nothing else matters.

Armin does not reply and is just smiling at him, cradling his cup between his palms. There is something secretive and fond in his smile that Jean thinks he should be wary of. He’s suddenly aware of how much he had rambled on and he clears his throat, avoiding Armin’s gaze and occupying himself with pouring more syrup over his pancakes. “Um, yeah, whatever. We’ll see them there anyway, at the themepark. No biggie.” No matter that Eren is picking Marco up. He stuffs some food into his mouth to stop his nervous word vomit.

“Hmm. It’ll be an interesting day, for sure,” Armin says, eyes lit with some mischievous, unholy light.

Jean does not like that, oh no. Those eyes coupled with that strange smile and that refusal to share what he’s thinking. He thinks he should stay as far away from Armin as possible today, stick with Marco and show him what an awesome potential boyfriend he is going to be. Course of action thus decided, he chews his food and waits for the time to arrive when they will set off for the theme park and his first not-date with his angel.

.

He is in heaven. He sees the perfect head of hair with a golden glow around it, inviting him to come nearer, to join hands with this ethereal being and sing hymns of joy and love as they leave the dirty world of sin behind –

A child crashes into his side, knocking the wind out of him.

“Oof. Watch it, kid!” he barks, rubbing his side and glaring at the little girl.

The girl, unrepentant, grins at him and runs off, screaming in glee as a little boy chases after her.

Jean scowls at the sight of kids these days who know nothing about manners. He straightens up and focuses on the entrance of the theme park, where his angel, his ex-angel, and his nemesis are standing and chatting. If only it weren’t for the sight of his hated rival, he would have thought he is in heaven.

Well, and if it weren’t for the stone archway of the entrance and the red, fleshy giant looming over it and seeming to stare down at them. That ain’t any sign of heaven.

_Land of Warriors_ is famous even outside Trost for its thrill rides, simulation games, and décor. The idea being that in this land, giants roam, and visitors “defeat” them through the rides and games, plunging down in a roller coaster through a giant’s mouth, narrowly escaping the snap of teeth in a log flume. And now, there’s this horror house Eren had spoken of, which Jean does not want to imagine. Questionable aesthetics aside, it is a popular place for families and, for some reason, young couples.

“How long are you planning on standing here?” Armin asks.

Jean comes back to himself with a start. He had been staring so hard at the way the sunlight is framing Marco that he had nearly forgotten Armin. “Right, let’s go then,” he says, grinning and forcing his shaky legs to move.

Mikasa is the first to spot them and wave. She has a small smile on her face and looks gorgeous even in plain clothes – it’s a lot easier to hang out with her now that Jean’s infatuation with her is over. Far more problematic is her brother, who looks over at them and says, “Glad you guys got here in one piece.”

“Surprised that you didn’t knock anyone down on the way here,” Jean shoots back on automation.

Marco’s light laugh reminds him he is supposed to be on his best behaviour to impress the love of his life. Marco is wearing a plaid shirt and Bermudas, which make him look altogether too adorable for Jean. He ignores Armin wincing at the choice of green and red plaid – Marco looks incredible and that’s all that matters. Jean flushes and, after a mental note at himself to calm the fuck down, says, “H-hi, Marco.”

That sounded way better in his head. He can’t stop beaming though, since Marco is smiling at him and saying, “Hey Jean, Armin. Did you get enough sleep this time?”

His brain stutters to a halt. “Huh?”

“Eren was saying you were nearly asleep at work on Friday,” Marco explains.

_Why that little_ – Jean spares a second to glare at Eren, who is speaking on the phone and does not seem to notice. He manages to pull together his thoughts to say, “Yeah, slept like a baby.”

“Except for when he woke me up at six to ask what to wear,” Armin mutters from beside him, too soft for Marco to hear.

Jean resists the urge to elbow Armin in the side. He has the feeling he has to practice a lot of self restraint today. He keeps smiling at Marco, and Marco is smiling back though he looks like he’s wondering why Jean is grinning like a dopey fool, and he feels like the rest of the world does not matter anymore, even when kids are running around them and there are wails of terror from inside the theme park.

Eren interrupts the moment in his usual abrasive way by saying, loudly, “Reiner and Bert are meeting us here in a minute. Connie and Sasha said they’ll be joining us later, something about a last minute write up for their food blog.”

“Should we wait for them?” Marco asks, breaking eye contact with Jean.

Eren shrugs and pockets his phone, looking around for Reiner and Bertholdt. “Nah, they said they’ll find us in the theme park. Sasha was babbling on about the war game so we’ll probably meet there – oh, hey, guys! Over here!”

Jean does not have time to mourn the loss of eye contact time with Marco before Reiner and Bertholdt have found them. If possible, Reiner looks even more muscular than the last time they met, and his grin as he grabs Eren around the shoulder and squeezes him is bright. Bertholdt’s smile is tiny as his gaze darts from person to person – he seems especially nervous when he catches sight of the new kid in town.

“Hey guys, long time no see!” Reiner roars, patting Armin on the back and sending him stumbling a few steps forward. He sees where Bertholdt’s gaze is directed and beams at Marco. “You must be Marco then.”

Marco seems shocked at how massive Reiner and Bertholdt are. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you. Are you – ”

Reiner points a thumb proudly at himself then at Bertholdt. “Yep, part-timers at _Warriors_ , at your service!”

Marco blinks then leans in to Jean, whispering, “That’s not what I wanted to ask.”

His angel is so close he can almost see every single freckle. Jean gulps and whispers back, “You’ll get used to Reiner, he’s like that.”

“Oh, so that’s Reiner. That’s what I wanted to ask,” Marco says, nodding. “Then the tall one is Bertholdt.”

“Yeah, they’re best buds,” Jean explains, a surge of pride welling in him at how he gets to help Marco out. Bertholdt is handing the tickets to Eren while Reiner chatters at Mikasa and tries to squirrel out information about Historia. “They were our seniors in high school, now they’re in their last year of university.”

“Oi, Jean, what’re you whispering there for! Fun to be had in _Warriors_ , no time to lose here,” Reiner says, drawing both boys’ attention. When they both hurry forward to join the rest Reiner nods sagely and says, “Ah, especially for a large group date like this – youth is so sweet, eh, Bert?”

“Reiner…” Bertholdt says in a half sigh, half groan.

“Eh?” Marco asks, eyes wide and a small flush on his face.

Jean watches the flush, transfixed and, above all, brain running a mile a minute wondering what that means. Does he think it’s a date? A d-date with…with him? Jean had thought this is going to be a not-date, but it isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, what with the soul deep conversations they have had over the past few days. Jean’s hand twitches. Perhaps, perhaps it isn’t too soon if he were to, if he were to just…hold…Marco’s hand? He inches forward slowly, slowly –

Entirely too used to Reiner’s propensity to make things up, Eren rolls his eyes and says, “Don’t mind him, Marco. Thanks guys, we’ll see you inside during your break or something!” Then he grabs Marco around the wrist and pulls him towards the gate, as impatient as a child. “Come on, I want to get to ‘Smiling Terror’ before the wait’s too long!”

Jean stares at the space where Marco used to be, his hand hanging limply in mid air. Armin sighs and pats his back before saying, “Let’s just go in first, Jean.”

Reiner, as usual, does not notice anything. His laughter can be heard from behind even as Mikasa grabs Jean’s other arm and pulls him along. “Have fun, you guys! Don’t do anything we wouldn’t!” he says as parting words, with Bertholdt wincing and giving them a small wave goodbye, like he already knows things aren’t going to go quite as peachy smooth.

.

‘Smiling Terror’ is named such because of the steep drop, almost 120 degrees, which makes part of the roller coaster course seem like an insane Cheshire cat grin. That, and the installation of a smiling woman giant whose hand chases them as they climb up the slope.

Marco’s face is set in a tight look of determination as they climb the slope while Eren, seated beside him, has eyes of wild excitement. Jean looks forlornly from behind, strapped in between Mikasa – who looks like she’s on a merry-go-round – and Armin – who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world now.

“I don’t think this is really safe,” Armin says in a voice hoarse from the prior screaming he did, from the second the ride started and sent them into loops and sharp turns. He has his eyes squeezed shut and knuckles turning white from the grip on the safety harness.

“I think it’s too late for that now,” Jean says mildly, trying to crane his neck so he can see more of Marco’s face. The next ride, he is so going to stand beside Marco in the queue so they can sit together and maybe Marco will be gripping onto his arm for support.

Instead of gripping onto bloody Eren Jaegar, who looks way too manic for a ride and way too uncaring of the fact that Marco is touching him.

“Whoooo, it’s coming, it’s coming!” the reckless fool shouts as the cart reaches the peak and out of the smiling giant’s range.

Of course, that means the 120 degree drop lies ahead, but Jean is more concerned about the way Marco is saying, voice high and shrill, “Oh God, oh God, oh my God what is this – ”

His eyes are shining with the mixture of natural fear for one’s life and adrenaline. Jean thinks he has never seen anything more beautiful. He remains fixated on the hitch in Marco’s voice as the cart goes over the 120 degrees drop and Eren whoops with excitement, Armin screams in sheer terror, and Marco lets out a shout of surprise.

Beside Jean, Mikasa sighs and closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of wind whipping through her hair and closing her ears off to the sound of boyish idiocy.

.

And maybe it isn’t fair to Armin, but for once Jean agrees with Eren’s decision to go on every single thrill ride there is, because Marco’s face is flushed with energy and he is gesturing and punctuating his words with his hands, laughing as he tells Jean how he used to love thrill rides, only that there is no good theme park in Ermiha, and he has always wanted to come to _Land of Warriors_.

Jean listens and nods, distracted by the way the sugar from the candy floss clings to Marco’s lips. The only reason he is getting such peace is because Eren is flanked by Mikasa and Armin now, all three of them poring over the guide map and tracing the path they want to take. The queue for ‘Bloody Breach’, an indoor roller coaster ride, inches forward. Marco quickly bites off a larger chunk of the floss to finish it before they reach the indoor waiting area.

“Jean?” he asks after he munches and swallows the food.

“Hmm?” Jean says, directing his attention back to Marco’s eyes. He had been watching the way Marco’s adam’s apple move.

“I was asking you which was your favourite ride.”

_The one where I sat beside you_ , is what Jean wants to say. For three glorious minutes, he had been sitting beside Marco in ‘Inner Fear’, a ride that brought them down a giant’s throat and made uncountable loops in what seemed like the giant’s stomach before they broke back out into daylight. For three glorious minutes, he had heard Marco’s laughter mingled with whoops of delight right in his ear.

“Um, ‘Inner Fear’ was pretty good, I thought,” he says.

“Oh, that was good!” Marco says, swallowing the last bite of candy floss with some effort and dumping the paper cone into a nearby dustbin. “I mean, as a kid I would have been grossed out, but it’s great fun, isn’t it? Everyone’s always so happy at a theme park.”

“Well, they kind of have to make it fun, or they wouldn’t make any money,” Jean points out while they watch two mini-giant mascots wander past the queue. Marco waves at them when they roar and make menacing gestures in their direction.

“Wow, your view on the world is really depressing,” Marco says, eyes still on the mascots moving through the crowd. Jean thinks he should feel offended, but Marco seems thoughtful. “It’s not wrong…just realistic, I guess.”

“It’s just the way the world works. Everybody’s looking for a little bit of happiness, so there’ll be people who make money off that, you know? Doesn’t mean the happiness isn’t true or anything like that,” Jean explains, watching one of the mascots pat a kid on the head and eliciting a squeal. He grins when the kid laughs and hugs the mascot. “It works out both ways. If people aren’t happy they wouldn’t be willing to spend on these kinds of things anyway. But here, kids are happy, parents are happy, the company’s happy. Works out.”

The kids are surrounding the mascots now and their squeals and screams are becoming annoying. He turns away, and nearly jumps when he sees that Marco is no longer looking at the mascots – he’s looking at Jean with a considering expression. Jean swallows and says, “Uh…sorry, if it’s strange or…I don’t know, too depressing?”

“No. No, just…I feel like I’m starting to know you just a tiny bit better, that’s all,” Marco explains with a small smile.

Jean is unable to figure out what that means – his heart is still thumping wildly when Eren leaves Mikasa and Armin to the map and says, “Guys, it’s nearly our turn – Marco, you still have floss on your face.”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess I do,” Marco says, rubbing a finger under his nose in embarrassment.

“Wait, I’ve got this. Mum made sure I had a pack of ’em – ” Eren takes out a packet of wet tissue with a flourish – “here! Now hold still – ”

“I – I can do it myself,” Marco says with a small squeak, his cheeks reddening.

“Nuh uh, hold still, it’s everywhere – ” Eren manages to get hold of Marco and attacks his face with the wet tissue. Marco makes more squeaking noises until he descends into giggles. “What are you, five?” Eren asks, chuckling a little as well while swiping across Marco’s cheeks and lips, leaving a sheen of moisture.

“Ah – thanks for that, though really, I could have done it myself,” Marco says, catching Eren’s wrist and bringing it down. His eyes are warm and his cheeks are still red when he asks, “You guys decided where to go after this?”

Eren scrunches the tissue up and tosses it into the bin, not making a move to shake off Marco’s grip. “Yeah, Connie messaged, they’re going on ‘Smiling Terror’ now and said they’ll meet us at the war game after we’re done with this. I was thinking maybe a late lunch after that, there’s a nice stew place near the war game. You mentioned you like stew?”

“I do. It feels like home,” Marco says, moving his hand to link with Eren’s.

“Remind me to get you my mum’s recipe,” Eren says, blinking at Marco holding his hand like he’s not quite sure what to do. In the end he shrugs and reaches his other hand out to pull Jean along by the arm. “Jean, stop standing there like a statue, the other people will be annoyed – eh, are you okay? Don’t tell me you’re feeling sick from all the rides.” Eren leans away as though Jean is about to vomit.

Only that Jean is not about to vomit, not really. He is staring at Marco holding hands with Eren like it’s some nightmare – no, not even a nightmare, more like something he cannot comprehend. He makes a sound like a whimper.

“No. I’m okay,” he manages to say after Marco gives him a worried look.

_Just a little bit like the world is crumbling around me, that’s all._

And this time he can’t even blame it on Eren, because Marco was the one who had made the first move.

.

‘Bloody Breach’ is one of the most popular rides in the theme park. Boasting décor of a nineteenth century town, the ride brings visitors through a wrecked town, complete with rubble and splatters of blood. There are conspicuous holes in the wall surrounding the town, and from it the giants enter, threatening the lives of the humans trying to make their escape through the gate to another town on the other end. As the humans travel, they come in close encounter with giants that snap their jaws just next to the cart or try to reach for their heads, only to miss by several meters.

And for all that it’s highly praised, Jean can’t quite remember what made the ride so good when they emerge into daylight.

Oh, he had been in a prime seat alright, seated to Marco’s left and able to see the flashes of wonder on the guy’s face. Only that on Marco’s other side is Eren, who does not seem to mind the fact that Marco has a hand clenched around his wrist pretty much throughout the whole ride. Eren had been his usual self, snarling at the giants they pass by as though they were really his enemies and cheering with delight when they make tight turns through hordes of those fleshy creatures. Because Jean had been observing Marco more than the ride, he also knew that Marco had been sneaking glances at Eren, whose eyes were alive and dancing as they “bested” the giants.

He also knows that he is completely and utterly moping as Eren, Marco, and Mikasa jog towards the war game, while Armin trails behind and matches his trudging pace. Jean does not even pretend to not be moping in front of him.

“So, there are very few reasons that you should be the one looking so terrible when I’m the one who feels like throwing up,” Armin starts.

Jean takes a moment to spare some sympathy for how pale Armin looks. His hair is windswept and he looks the complete opposite of how composed he was in the morning. Still, there is a small smile on his face as he looks at his best friends jogging ahead of them. Armin stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and says, “Which means something happened between Marco and Eren to make you look like a kicked puppy.”

Jean scuffs his shoe against the pavement, not noticing it when a nearby mascot makes gurgling, vaguely threatening noises at him. After they pass by a stand selling popcorn and a puddle of vomit that some cleaners are tackling, Jean says in a small voice, “Marco held Eren’s hand. I think he likes him.”

“Ah.”

Jean watches a balloon float into the air. The boy who had been holding it starts crying when he realizes it is gone. It is the face of one of the Super Giants, the Armoured one, it seems like. Jean watches the balloon float away until it is only a speck in the sky. When he no longer feels like he’s in danger of sniffling, he returns to the buzz of the theme park and gives his attention to Armin.

“Jean. You know, as I mentioned in _Dots_ that time…maybe you’re overthinking things,” Armin explains in a soothing voice as they step around a young couple. “I’m not saying it’s impossible for Marco to like Eren. You’ll have to respect what Marco feels, don’t you?”

“I _know_. I know all these. It’s just – ” he makes a noise of frustration, not knowing how to say it.

“Your mind knows, but your heart doesn’t?” Armin suggests.

“…you didn’t have to make it sound so sappy,” Jean says, shoulders slumping.

“Sappy or not, I guess it’s true. That – I suppose it will have to take some time for you to get over. Just…Marco likes you, you know.”

Jean thinks he might have been in danger of getting whiplash with how fast he turned his head. “Eh?”

“As a friend. He seemed comfortable talking with you,” Armin says, sounding a little apologetic that he had given Jean that hope. “I’m not an expert on this, Jean, no matter how much you and others say I’m a genius or whatever. But still, I think you should just be friends with him first. It’s just such a waste, you know, if you give up on a friendship with him just because you want to be in a romantic relationship…”

Jean thinks about it. He really, truly, takes a moment to think. After a minute, by which time they nearly catch up with the rest, he asks the question that has been on his mind since the moment Armin started giving him advice. “Armin…have you ever liked somebody?”

“I have.”

“You – huh?” He hadn’t been expecting such a forthright answer.

Armin grins at him. “I have. But as I said, I’m definitely no expert on this.”

“So you – did that person like you too? As in, _like_ -like.” He cringes at how stupid that sounded, but it’s the only way he knows how to put it.

Armin shakes his head. “No, that person did not _like_ -like me. But we’re friends. And I hope we’ll be friends for a long time. And I guess that’s my point…just be friends with him first, Jean. If anything happens after that, well…if it’s going to happen, it will. If not, hey – ” he shrugs – “you’ll still have a great friendship to call your own.”

They’re close enough to the queue that they can see Eren and the impatience rolling off him in waves. Armin stifles a chuckle and makes a faux apologetic look at his best friend.

“Armin?”

“Hmm?” Armin looks at him, still a little pale from all the rides, but willing enough to go along with what his friends want to do.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll…I’ll try,” he says, softly so that none of the rest can hear.

“You’ll be fine. Things will work out, you’ll see,” Armin says, serene and happy in a way that makes Jean envious of his surety. “And Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“For goodness sake, just enjoy the theme park. It’s not every day we come to _Warriors_ ,” Armin says. “Way you look, it’s as though somebody just died.”

Jean snorts and manages a weak grin. “Will try on that front too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy - guys, this is the chapter that just would not end. I am so, so sorry it took this long. This was written over the Lunar New Year holidays - Happy New Year to all who celebrate it! May the Year of Jean - uh, Year of the Horse be a fantastic one!
> 
> Just in case people are wondering - yes, I love Armin loads, he somehow pushed his way into this chapter :)


	6. Step Six: Set Timer for Four Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys and girls make a dramatic escape.

_There is one moment from childhood that Jean can remember clearly. His pre-school teacher had bounced into class with an armful of pink and red paper, bottles of child-safe glue, and what looked like an entire store’s worth of glitter. The kids had immediately brightened up and scrambled towards her, clamouring for the glitter. That day, even Jean, who was more interested in playing with the blocks and creating make believe towers and heroes, joined in as she taught them all how to make Valentine’s Day cards._

_When he went home, he gave the heart-shaped card to his mother, his writing of “Happy Val ~~a~~ entine’s Day Mum” nearly hidden beneath the glitter. Beaming, his mother had placed it beside the card his father gave her earlier in the morning. _

_More than a little curious about this Saint Valentine’s thing, and what his teacher had rattled on about love and joy and all that, Jean had asked his mother, “Mum, how did you know you love Dad?”_

_In hindsight, he should have known that it was an invitation for his mother to talk his ear off for hours. His child self was just happy that his mother sat him down with a plate of cookies and a glass of cold milk. He cannot remember much of what his mother said, since she did talk for three hours until Jean got sick of the cookies. But this he remembers – the fond expression on his mother’s face in the soft glow of sunset light, as she sighed and said, so softly as though Jean was not meant to have heard it…_

.

With Sasha and Connie joining the group, there is an added burst of energy which makes it difficult for Jean to continue moping. And they’re quick to draw Marco into the gang, especially Sasha, after Marco offers her a candy bar when her stomach growls. Jean has no time to warn him before Sasha pounces.

With shining eyes, she grabs his hand and says, “You’re a god, aren’t ya? Yes, you are. And you’re the cute boy at _Dots_ too! Connie, I like him. Can we keep him?”

“Careful there, mate. She’s never gonna stop harassing you now,” Connie says with a large grin. He manages to pull Sasha’s hand off Marco, who looks unsure what to do with the wild animal that Sasha is. “Don’t mind her, she likes people who like food.”

“People who like food are the best kind of people. You can always trust them,” Sasha explains while biting off half the candy bar. After a moment in which she seems to struggle with herself, she offers the other half to Connie with a mournful expression.

“Naw, you keep it.”

Sasha beams and, through the mouthful of candy, she mock whispers to Marco, “That’s why he’s my best spud. We’re totally gonna be on the same team later.” In a practiced move she shoves the last half of the candy bar into her mouth and crunches on the whole thing with a blissful expression.

“Team?” Marco asks, smiling at Sasha, already warming up to the girl.

Her voice muffled by the food, she manages to say, “Yeah, we’ve gotta break into teams later. Three to five people max. You wanna join our team, Marco?”

Eren’s ears seem to perk up at the talk of teams. “Are we deciding teams? Dibs on Armin!” he declares, pulling Armin to him.

“What? If you get Armin then we get Mikasa!” Connie says, turning a pleading look to Mikasa. “Come on, Mikasa, we’ll be invincible!”

With an effort Sasha swallows everything in her mouth and darts to Mikasa’s side. “Yeah, Mikasa! I’ll cover your back and everything!” Sasha says, wrapping a hand around her arm.

Mikasa frowns, looking from Connie to Eren. “I don’t know…if I’m not around Eren will do something stupid – ”

“Hey!” Eren looks offended. Jean is not sure why, since it should already be established that Eren is capable of doing something stupid ninety percent of the time.

“ – though if Armin is there…” She looks at Armin, who shrugs in a what-can-you-do sort of helpless way, trapped by his friend’s iron grip.

This might work out for him, Jean thinks, heart beating a little faster. “Um, if Mikasa joins them…do you wanna join Eren’s team with me, Marco?” Now it doesn’t matter so much that he has to work together with Eren, as long as he can still spend some time with Marco. _Please, oh please_ , he thinks, looking at Marco with wide eyes.

Marco looks from person to person, all of whom are eyeing him like he’s a prime cut of meat, and he chuckles nervously. “Uh, I think that’s fine, though I’m not sure how I can help…”

Armin slaps a hand over Eren’s mouth before he can protest Jean joining. “I want to work with Marco too. And Eren, you know how athletic Jean is.” He breaks out his sweet smile at his best friend, the one that says _you know I’m right, don’t you_? “Or do you really want us to get our asses kicked by Mikasa?”

Eren glares at Armin then Jean before he growls out a “Fine”.

“Great! Welcome to the team, Marco!” Armin says with plenty of cheer.

“Thanks, but what are we supposed to do anyway?” Marco asks, looking clueless and like a lost sheep. Jean makes an involuntary squeak; it is his compensation for not being able to hug the living daylights out of his crush. Thankfully nobody except Armin notices.

Armin takes his hand away from Eren’s mouth and says, “Well, that’s simple. All we have to do is – ”

“Defeat all the giants!” Eren declares with a raised fist.

“Win the other team,” Connie says.

“Get all the points!” Sasha says with a wide smile.

“ – get out of the game alive,” Armin says.

There is silence for all of five seconds until Marco sums up everyone’s reactions with a well-placed “Huh?”

.

‘Great Escape’ is the name of the war game, and at any one point, in each room, there are two teams competing. All players strap on a special equipment that allows them to “fly”, hence the padded outfit and helmet to prevent injuries. The play swords have a sensor in them – once they “kill” a giant it registers the kill and adds it to the team’s score. Each team starts out from a designated start point, but the targets are free for all. In the event that a player gets swallowed by a giant, he or she is transported into the waiting room. Every player that makes it out of the room alive earns bonus points for the team, and if all players are eaten the game is over. If twenty minutes are up and there are still players in the room, the game ends automatically and all points are tabulated.

That is part of the painstaking tutorial session that Miss Rico gives every player at the start, besides just allowing them to practice flying in the padded rooms under her careful eye. In their case, the moment they enter, her disgruntled expression proves she remembers this bunch of trouble makers. After the explanation, with pointed emphasis on the fact that they are not supposed to hit each other with the play swords, she glares around at all of them as though daring them to defy her instructions.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” she says once she spots Marco.

“Uh…yes, ma’am,” Marco says, back straightening unconsciously.

She pulls him aside and, before dragging him off to one corner, barks at them, “Break anything and I’ll break _you_. You hear that?”

Jean has a feeling she was eyeing Eren and himself as she said that. He gives her his most innocent smile, which she does not seem to believe. Marco is taken to the newbie corner, leaving them to split into their teams and enter the separate practice rooms, where their equipment and a series of platforms await their use.

It has been a while since Jean played this game, but once the equipment is strapped on it’s as though he had never forgotten. Armin goes first, careful and not quite steady, but safely enough. After he has touched down, looking like he would rather not go through the experience again, Jean presses the timer button and kicks off the ground, aiming the magnetic hooks at the glowing connection points and swinging from one platform to the next smoothly. Instead of natural wind rushing through his hair and slapping at his face, it’s the conditioned air regulated to ensure sanity and the visitors’ comfort. But it _is_ like flying. He leaps higher and higher until he reaches the topmost platform, and from there he leaps into the air, laughing with delight when he manages to make a couple of loops.

“Hey, show-off!”

Jean lands on the opposite platform and flips Eren the finger, too exulted to be truly angry. “Bet you can’t beat this!” he shouts back.

“Bet I can defeat more giants than you!” Eren yells from the ground where he’s awaiting his turn.

“What’re you gonna bet on?” he says, looking down. He’s not so far off the ground that he can’t see Eren’s expression in every detail. For a while he thought he had seen an approving glint in Eren’s eyes, but that must have been his imagination because Eren is looking at him with that arrogant smirk again. It’s a familiar tit-for-tat argument between the both of them – Armin is ignoring them, opting to stay in the corner to study the map of the main game area.

Eren’s smirk takes on a mischievous edge. “A favour.”

A what? Jean frowns and tilts his head to the side, considering this. He hadn’t expected Eren to seriously take the bet on. The buzzer goes off and he does a combination of jumping and flying down, landing without a hitch next to Eren. “A favour?”

Eren nods. “A favour. To be called on anytime the winner needs it. Of course, no stupid ideas like killing someone or whatever.”

He does not know what Eren is thinking. Jean studies his expression and wonders if it’s just a game for him, or if there’s something behind this bet…to buy himself some time, he scoffs and says, “Trust you to come up with that example. Armin, I think you should be worried about your best friend here.”

Armin does not look up from the map when he replies, “If I worry about every single thing Eren does I won’t have energy left for anything else.”

“You and Mikasa both. You guys are seriously worrywarts,” Eren says, rolling his eyes. “So, Jean, how about it? A little bet to make things more interesting.”

There are many reasons why not. Such as the fact that Eren might talk big, but Jean knows he is capable of doing what he sets his mind on. And if he does lose, he has no idea what sort of favour the guy might think up of.

On the other hand, winning and having Eren at his beck and call for one favour…

“Deal,” he says, holding a hand out. Eren looks at it as though he might be diseased. “Never heard of shaking on it?”

“Fake gentleman, aren’t you?” Eren says, gripping Jean’s hand firmly.

Not so much a gentleman that he will give up on this chance. Jean smirks and shakes Eren’s hand once before letting go. He wonders why Eren is staring at him after that though, for a few seconds, before he averts his eyes and says, “Well, my turn now.”

He presses the timer and kicks off, making for the first platform. Eren is a good, steady flier, but when it comes to this game Jean won’t lose to anyone in fast, precise movement. He stares at Eren flying and the scowl of determination on his face until Armin says, sounding amused, “Stop ogling Eren and come help me refine this strategy.”

Jean feels his face burn. He turns and stomps over, feet making no sound on the padded ground. “I am _not_ ogling Eren – uh, Marco!” When did he get here? Why did Armin not inform him? How much of their conversation did Marco hear? “Um, done with practice with Miss Rico?”

Armin gives him the look which says “obviously he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t done with practice”. Jean scratches his head to cover the embarrassing moment and sags in relief when Marco says, covering up the moment of blunder, “Yeah, we covered the basics. And Armin told me a little about his plan.”

“It’s a simple one, really. I’ll explain in detail once Eren’s done. Anyway, we want to be here eventually – ” he points to the center of the map, coloured red – “where there are the most giants, to earn points. When it’s about five minutes to the end, we should start making our way to the exit so we can earn the bonus points – uh, if none of us are eaten, that is.”

The buzzer goes off and Eren comes flying down, landing just next to Marco. “Strategizing?” he asks.

“Yeah, we still have a bit of time till the game starts,” Armin says, eyes still on the map. Each team starts off near a red spot full of giants for fairness, and there are scattered green spots where gamers can regroup in relative safety. Armin traces out their regroup spots and says, “From the way I’m guessing we’ll be moving, we gather here after the first five minutes – here after the next five – and here at the fifteen minutes mark. And whenever else necessary, we regroup at the nearest point.”

“When are the necessary times?” Marco asks, eyes scanning over the paper.

“If one of us is eaten. Most likely me,” Armin says in a matter of fact tone.

“Oi oi, none of that now. You can’t be eaten. Or we’re doomed,” Eren says, crouching down next to Armin. “So how’re we going about defeating the giants?”

“You and Jean are our best fighters – no offence, Marco, I just don’t know enough about your fighting style yet,” Armin says with a quick smile.

“None taken. I was thinking the same thing anyway.”

“So both of you just go ahead and kill as much as you want, but stick to our side of the room. Marco and I can cover your backs and make sure the hot spots are cleared of giants before we move on. And this is so we won’t give the other team the impetus to invade our side. If all goes well, each team will stick to their side of the room, and with Eren and Jean we might be able to score more points than them.” Armin uses his finger to draw a clean line down the center, indicating the unspoken boundary between the teams. For most people, they would be too busy fending off giants in their half to care much about invading the other team’s area. That is, for _most_ people. Armin frowns and says, “But if the other team – ”

“Um, sorry to interrupt…”

They all turn as one to look at Marco, who blinks at their full attention but does not seem otherwise distressed. Armin gives him an encouraging nod to go on. “These simulations…they’re smart, aren’t they? That’s what Miss Rico said, they can sense us near them?” Marco adds.

“Yes. They are after all trying to eat us,” Armin says.

“So what if…what if we do this, guys?” Marco says, the beginnings of an idea evident in his expression. He beckons them closer and takes a deep breath –

.

What greets them in the main room are plenty of well made trees and buildings, all of which offer great areas for the magnetic hooks to attach themselves to, but which make for poor visibility. The giants might be hiding anywhere, and all they’ll have to depend on are their senses and their team members’ signals. The huge ceiling replicates the sky and it even smells bloody in here, the metallic scent mingling with the smell of dirt and grass. Jean has already been here a few times, but even now he wonders if this is what it feels like in a real war – thank goodness, he thinks, that all of this is just make believe.

The doors shut behind each team’s entrance area, leaving them in an unnatural silence with the underlying hum of electrical equipment. Then an automated voice says, “ _Welcome to ‘Great Escape’. In fifteen seconds, your twenty minutes will begin. Good luck, soldiers. Stay alive._ ”

A hologram of a countdown timer is projected on the expansive ceiling, ticking down from a large ‘15’. In the fifteen seconds they arrange themselves in a triangle, Marco at the front, Armin behind him, and Eren and Jean to either side of Armin, their play swords all out and ready.

“You sure about this, Marco?” Jean asks when there are seven seconds left.

After Marco had discussed his idea, Armin had fallen into silence for a moment before he agreed that they could work it in. Eren and Jean had exchanged glances, united in their worry – but in the end the combined persuasion from Armin and Marco left them no choice but to agree.

Marco shifts and smiles over his shoulder at Jean. “No more time left for doubt, is there?”

He looks nervous even though it’s just a game. Through the helmet Jean can see the sweat gathering above his upper lip and the way his eyes flick from side to side, like he’s already looking out for threats. But his smile is real and excited.

Jean grins and tightens his grip on the swords. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

A large bell clangs when the fifteen seconds are up, signaling the start of the game. At this moment, they are still too far away from the other team’s starting point to worry about them. Marco runs forward a few steps and kicks off, finding the connecting points on the trees with ease and swinging himself forward carefully. For a first time gamer, he isn’t bad at all, Jean thinks with a strange sense of pride. He must have picked up on Miss Rico’s guidance quickly.

They keep the triangle formation as they move to the first hot spot, north of their team’s entry point. Though the buildings to the north east would provide a better vantage point and more protection, they would be wasting time getting there when they could be earning points instead. Through the forests all is silent – unnaturally so. Without the sounds of insect and animal life it becomes much easier to tell when something approaches them. The way Marco is moving with caution, sharp eyes darting around, tells Jean things are going to happen soon. He flexes his wrist and readies his swords.

A second later Marco whistles. A giant sighted. Marco kicks off a tree and uses the burst of speed to go dangerously close to the giant. For a while Jean’s heart leaps to his throat, as though this were a real battle they were experiencing, that if they get swallowed that’s the end, no more laughing with Marco, no more phone conversations with him.

Then he reminds himself he’s being stupid, it’s a game, and he has a job to do. Marco swerves away just as the giant roars and tries to reach for him, only to be felled by Jean swinging around the giant’s left just as it is distracted and attacking the flesh on its neck.

“Hah! One down!” he says. The momentum keeps him moving and he adjusts himself to avoid slamming into a tree. Even in a padded suit, it’s still going to be bloody painful. He’s about to share a triumphant grin with Marco when he realizes the guy is already moving, on the lookout for the next target.

“Not too fast, Jean!” Eren says, spotting the next one the same time Marco does. He puts on a burst of speed and slams the play swords down on the giant’s neck. It goes down with a roar of pain and dissolves into mist. Eren pumps a fist into the air in victory and says, “Now we’re equal!”

“Are you guys seriously fighting among yourselves? Seriously?” Marco yells over his shoulder at them. Behind the look of relief that the plan had actually worked, Marco looks like he is just starting to realize how stupid they are.

Oops. Jean had forgotten he is supposed to be trying to impress Marco.

From his higher vantage point where it’s harder for giants to reach, Armin yells, “They are idiots like that, Marco!”

“Armin! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Eren says in mock hurt.

Marco makes a sound like he’s going to laugh but is trying not to. “I might get eaten here, you two!”

“We won’t let you!” Jean says. He tries to look contrite, but it’s hard when adrenaline is pushing him to move and fly. From the way Marco eventually gives in and laughs, he knows the guy feels the same way.

Slightly above them but still following the group, Armin swings from tree to tree, looking out for the next target. He narrows his eyes at some suspicious rustling in a further patch of trees. “Jean! Thirty – no, forty meters to your right, it’s camouflaged behind a tree.”

“On it!” Jean says. It’s hard to leave Marco behind…but he does have a bet he should try to win, and a group plan to stick to.

“Eren, don’t go after it, just stay with Marco, you ass! There’s one – two! Two just right up ahead!” Armin barks from the tree.

“Alright, I get it already! God you’re annoying,” Eren shouts back. He glares at Marco when he chuckles.

“And whose bloody fault is that? Jean, why are you still hanging back, are you a mother hen or something? GET ON WITH IT.”

“Argh, okay, okay!” Jean says. Of course Armin would notice that he’s lingering behind, hoping to spend a few more seconds with Marco. Even so, he can’t help his grin and the enormous sense of satisfaction he feels when he spots the giant. He swoops around, bringing it down before it has the chance to chase after their team’s decoy.

_Best game ever_ , he thinks when he returns and manages to share a smile with Marco. This is way better than trying to fight for a seat next to Marco on the rides –

“Ah, Jean, the tree!”

Way better, if it weren’t for the obstacles that might give Jean a painful bruise or two the next morning. Through his will alone he ignores Eren’s snorts of laughter and pulls up a reassuring grimace. Well, it was meant to be reassuring anyway, from Marco’s wide-eyed look he imagines he looks a little deranged.

It’s going to be an interesting twenty minutes, that’s for sure.

.

Through the first ten minutes they move north, then north east, and they manage to do well. Eren saves Armin from a close encounter with a bearded giant, Jean nearly has a heart attack when a giant misses Marco by less than a meter, Marco achieves some kills on his own when Eren and Jean are occupied with their own targets, Jean tries to always keep his kills one more than Eren, and in this way they bicker and squabble and fight their way to the central spot.

The way things are running so smoothly is an indication that things, bad things, are likely to happen soon.

Spotting a giant near the edge that separates trees from buildings, Jean heads there and is halfway across the distance when a small blur overtakes him. He knows that person –

“Connie!” he growls out.

“Hah, knew following you would lead me to a giant!” Connie says, using his small size to his advantage and confounding the giant with his speed. The creature is felled and all there is left is mist.

“Why you little – ”

An unrestrained whoop of delight alerts him to the fact that he’s not the only one here. Eren shouting tips the whole team off. “What the hell, Sasha!”

“All’s fair in love and war, baby! Wheeee!” Sasha says, using the equipment as a makeshift bungee and bouncing back up into the foliage, laughing all the way.

The other team has invaded. Jean glances up at Armin, whose grim expression says his prediction came true. The only comfort is Mikasa is not here – she’s a straightforward sort of person, most likely too busy dealing with the hot spots nearer her team’s starting point, while the two little sneaks decided to steal the kills off their opponents.

“Okay team, change of plans!” Armin says, hopping down to where Eren is. He nearly stumbles off a tree and is caught by Eren. “Thanks! Jean, Marco, go! We regroup in five minutes.”

“Hey! No fun, all of you!” Sasha says, scrambling to follow them. “Connie, we’ve gotta get a move on!”

Jean uses the chance to grab Marco and take a sharp turnaround to head east. “No way in hell we’re waiting for you guys!”

“Aw, come on! That’s the point of the game!” Connie says, but the rest of his protest is lost as the team splits up, Eren and Armin heading north, and Jean and Marco heading east before they regroup in the center. When they had made the plans, Armin had couched it in no uncertain terms – Mikasa had trusted Eren to Armin, so he will make sure the idiot does not break anything. Marco is level headed enough that he can work well with Jean.

At that time, Jean had decided that being Armin’s research slave is a small price to pay for the little bits of help his friend had extended. Armin’s expression at that time had said, very clearly, “Don’t fuck this up.”

He does not plan to. Making sure that Marco is not having trouble finding connecting points for the hooks, they move as fast as they can through the trees, breaking out into the building areas where it is significantly more dangerous. There, the giants can hide and they will not alert the soldiers to their presence, since there is no foliage to rustle.

“You alright, Marco?” Jean asks, slowing down a little bit as they navigate the maze of streets.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” Marco says, still acting as scout and looking out for any sign of giants. “We should be near the edge of the hot spot soon.”

“Should we run on the rooftops instead?” Jean wonders out loud. “At least the giants won’t be able to ambush us there…”

“Connie and Sasha will be able to see us. Let’s get far away from them first so they won’t steal the kills,” Marco points out. He slows down as they turn the corner, checking for giants before they take off down the street. “They’re good at this game. Really good.”

Jean huffs. “Tell me about it. Last time we played this together, it was Connie, Sasha, Annie, Mina, and me on the same team. Connie and Sasha were the best at sneaking around – they kept following Hannah and Franz. Pissed them off too.”

They pause there – Marco had seen the back of a giant disappearing around the next corner, and trusting the information Jean goes ahead to bring down the giant.

“Looks like we’re in the hot spot now,” Marco says when Jean has returned and they speed down another alleyway. “You weren’t playing against Eren, Mikasa, and Armin that time?”

“They were in another game with, erm…Reiner, Bert, Historia, Ymir, I think.”

“Wow. No wonder you guys are so good at this,” Marco says, not even a hint of envy in his voice. Just plain admiration for their skills.

Thank goodness they are wearing helmets, he thinks, because at least he can hide his blush in there. “Naw, we all got eaten at least once, damn boring just waiting in that room for everyone to finish. If anything, you should talk about yourself, mister. First time here, you haven’t been eaten, and you’re doing the most dangerous job already,” Jean says with a grumble. He still can’t forget that heart-stopping moment when Marco nearly got caught by a giant. Game or not, it’s hard to think of someone getting swallowed and disappearing just like that.

Marco laughs and rubs his neck in a sheepish motion. “I just thought…my eyes are pretty sharp, so I can at least act as decoy and you guys can get the kills…”

“Hmm…the fun part of this game is killing the giants though. Not that I want to sound like Eren or whatever, with his defeat all the giants mentality – but I guess that’s the allure of the game?”

Marco does not answer straight away. In part, that is because he has spotted a group of four giants, and they are forced to land on a rooftop and crouch low to study how best to attack them. While they watch the giants lumber around, still far away enough that they have not sensed them, Marco finally says, “I suppose I can’t help but think about…what’s best for the team. I mean, it’s fun to try defeating a giant and all, but in the end it’s about the team surviving and winning, so since I’m not that great at the game I can at least find a role that helps the team.”

Jean looks at Marco, who smiles back in earnest. He sighs and says, “Damn it, Marco. Now you’re making me feel bad about the stupid competition with Eren.”

Marco’s eyes widen. “Competition?”

“Ah, nothing. We were just competing for who would get more points in this game,” Jean explains.

“Oh, that’s not a bad thing though. It looks like you guys are having fun,” Marco reasons and, with some hesitation, he adds softly, “Eren looks like he’s having the time of his life.”

Jean swallows. He thinks he knows what Marco means. The light in Eren’s eyes as he swings from tree to tree and the way he thrills in the joy of the hunt. It is hard to miss that and for Marco who had already been observing Eren…

Jean shakes his head and turns his attention back to the group of titans. They have less than two minutes left to regroup. He has no time to think about Eren and how effortlessly he had snagged Marco’s attention. Besides, he is trying to take Armin’s words to heart, to enjoy the time in the theme park with Marco. “Yeah. Now, let’s tackle this group, eh?”

“Right,” Marco says in agreement. He frowns at the giants and asks in a low voice, “How should we do this?”

“I’m not good at tactics…I was thinking surprise attack? That way we can take one down each before the other two realize we’re there. Like, those two at the edge seem pretty dumb.” One is scratching at his cheek and drooling, and another is just gazing vacantly into space.

Marco stifles his chuckles. “Do they have personalities?”

“I think they’re programmed to have different abilities. And some are less, uh, clever than others,” Jean says with a grin at Marco.

“Alright. Then I’ll get the attention of the other two and head north to the regroup point?” Marco suggests.

Time is ticking. Jean bites his lip and thinks about it before saying, “Are you sure? They might be pretty fast.”

“They could be. But I trust you,” Marco says with an easy smile that makes Jean’s breath stutter.

He’s really, _really_ not sure how he’s going to get over this man. “Right. Okay, let’s go then,” Jean says, standing up quickly to make sure Marco does not have time to see how he’s staring. He readies his swords and steps up to the edge of the rooftop. “Good to go?”

Marco nods. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With that, Jean leaps off, keeping his body as streamlined as possible so he’s not fighting against the air resistance. Within a few seconds he reaches the group, and in a few more he takes down the drooling giant while Marco gets rid of the vacant one. He doesn’t have time to revel in the victory before the other two giants notice them.

“Here they come!” he shouts, jumping back out of the way when one swipes at him.

“Hey, dimwits! Over here!” Marco yells from the other side. To draw even more attention to himself he flies in front of the giant that had been trying to attack Jean. “Come on, this way!”

It works. The giants, annoyed by Marco as though he is an irritating fly that just refuses to get caught, roar and charge in his direction. With their attention off him Jean is able to get rid of one more before it gets too near to Marco.

But the other is not as slow. As hard as Marco tries to move fast, the giant’s range is wider, and with a roar she manages to close her hand around Marco.

That cliché, about time slowing down and being able to see every action happening in the minutest detail? For the first time Jean understands what he means.

He does not even register it, but then there’s a loud scream of “MARCO!” – beneath the numb shock, there is a part of him that is dimly surprised at how scared he could sound.

He’s not sure what happens then. All he feels is the desperate desire to get there as fast as humanely possible, and he does not even care that this is all a game and that nothing will actually happen to Marco, he needs to hit the giant where it hurts, so hard the swords will cut through the spine. He sees the giant lifting Marco to her mouth, sees Marco’s look of wide-eyed surprise and a hint of panic –

Before Jean strikes the nape and the giant groans, collapsing and dissolving into mist.

Jean lands on the pavement, panting, struggling to catch his breath, blinded by the sweat dripping into his eyes. After a painful moment of trying to slow his heart beat down, he looks around, seeing only the quiet, empty street and the walls of the buildings. The timer on the ceiling, ticking down against the replicated sky, tells him there are five minutes left. Five minutes. Just five more minutes to the end of the game, and –

“Marco?” His voice is so small he does not quite recognize it as his own.

“I’m here.”

Jean yelps and spins around, coming face to face with a shaken but unharmed Marco. The guy’s legs are trembling and his expression is the epitome of awe. “Boy, the reviewers weren’t kidding when they said it feels real – uh…”

Jean had let go of the swords, leaving them dangling by his hips while he hugs Marco so tightly he’s sure he’ll leave bruises. Even through the suits he can feel Marco’s warmth and his heart racing. “Oh my god. _Oh my god_ , you idiot!” he yells, no longer caring that they might attract the attention of giants near them.

“Ah…” Marco’s hands come up to pat Jean’s back. “Jean? Jean, it’s just a game, I’m alright. Not even scratched, really, they programmed the giants so that no damage is done, I think, and in the end you did take down the giants so – Jean?”

“I don’t care,” he says, bumping the side of his helmet against Marco’s. “God, you’re _such_ an idiot.”

“Hey now,” Marco says, stepping back and looking bashful. “I guess that was kind of stupid of me. Could have lost the team bonus points, right?”

“That’s – ”

That is not the point. Armin had explained it – his mind knows all these, but his heart doesn’t. And for one split second he had thought he was going to fail, having put his mind to protecting Marco, and sure it’s a game, but it feels so fucking real, and everything from the adrenaline rush to the horror and fear – those _are_ real.

He clears his throat and turns away, pretending to be busy with checking the kill count on his swords. After he feels calmer he says, “That’s…true. We had better get a move on, we need to regroup. Eren and Armin will think we have been eaten.”

“Ah!” Marco looks up at the countdown timer then grabs Jean’s wrist, turning them north to the regroup point. “Come on, we need to hurry then!”

Jean looks at Marco holding his wrist, barely thinking as he follows Marco’s motions of connecting the hooks and swinging from building to building. If a giant were to encounter them now, the likelihood is high they would both be eaten – that’s how dazed Jean is. Not just because Marco is holding his wrist, but –

_To think, just this morning, I was only wondering whether I’d get to hold his hand_ , Jean thinks, wanting to sigh at how silly he had been acting. Perhaps that close shave had taken years off his life, and perhaps it is all just a simulation game, something to be laughed over – but Jean does not think he will be forgetting this anytime soon. The warmth of Marco’s body, the pace of his heart beat, the exhilarated grin Marco has as they rush through the streets and near their destination.

_You’re right, Armin. I’ll try to enjoy this while I can,_ he thinks as they catch sight of where the rest of their team and the cluster of giants are waiting for them.

.

After being welcomed back with “you’re late!” (Eren) and “we thought you guys were eaten!” (Armin), the rest of the game turns out to be relatively anti-climatic and a free-for-all. Mikasa is already there, cutting a path through the giants, and by the time Sasha and Connie arrive they have given up on wondering who each target belongs to in favour of getting to the exit before the time is up.

At nineteen minutes and fifteen seconds, Armin herds them all towards the exit that is blocked by a few giants.

At nineteen minutes and forty seconds, Eren and Jean have made short work of the titans, with Eren leading by two kills.

At nineteen minutes and fifty seconds, despite Jean’s argument that he still has time to go back and take down another three titans, Armin glares at him and pushes him through the exit.

At twenty minutes, all of them are through the exit and breathing heavily in the resting room, where employees are hovering near them and waiting to collect their suits and swords. The exit door locks down and it is like they have exited a strange alternate reality, away from the trees and the buildings and the smell of blood to a room where they can sprawl in varying degrees of exhaustion. For half a minute all they do is attempt to catch their breath.

“Hey!” Sasha manages to say after she has stopped panting. “This is the first time none of us got eaten!”

“Cool!” Connie says, holding a hand up for her to do a weak high five against. Both of them are flat on the ground near the counter and are ignoring the poor guy trying to tug the suits off them.

“Was Eren being a dumbass?” Mikasa asks, directing the question at Armin. She does not even look winded.

“Hey!” Eren protests. As always Mikasa seems deaf to his indignation.

“Not so much this time,” Armin says, passing the helmet to the employee.

“What do you mean not so much this time?”

All of them ignore him while they strip off the suits and pass everything back to the employees. Jean takes a look at his kill count, sneaks a glance at Eren’s, and sighs at the result – looks like he really shouldn’t have made the bet after all, he thinks before he passes the swords to the waiting employee. Now he’ll have to wonder when Eren will call in the favour, and what he’ll be asking.

There is a perk to this though, he thinks as he eyes the way sweat had made Marco’s shirt cling to him. Jean might have started drooling if not for the lady behind the counter clearing her throat and drawing everyone’s attention to her.

“Team Hunters and Team Awesome?” she says.

Eren wrinkles his nose. “Team _Awesome_?” he asks with a disgusted look at Connie and Sasha.

Connie shrugs. “Why reject the truth?”

“Team _Hunters_?” Sasha asks in the exact same tone Eren had used.

“I thought it didn’t sound too bad,” Marco says soothingly.

Eren sniffs. “At least someone here has good taste.”

Jean rolls his eyes. They had gone with the name only because nobody wanted to fight with Eren over it. Something about his attachment to his surname.

“Please don’t mind them,” Armin tells the lady.

She chuckles and taps some keys on her board. “I’ll be pulling up the scores for you now. For Team Hunters we have – 270 points!”

Jean whistles. In all their previous games, either because somebody was eaten or because people kept stealing their kills, they have never gone beyond 220 points. “Pretty decent!”

“That’s a lot more than when we played this last time,” Armin says.

“Well, yeah, considering none of us got eaten this time,” Eren says, still seeming a little grumpy.

“And for Team Awesome we have – it’s a really close match – 280 points!”

“No way!” Eren says with a groan. “How!”

“Because we’re awesome, that’s why!” Connie exclaims.

“You mean because Mikasa did all the work,” Jean points out. Mikasa, unruffled, gives him a small smile.

“Well, yeah, that too!” Sasha says, completely unashamed. She dances around and hugs Mikasa, not minding in the least that Mikasa is standing stock still. “We win, we win!”

“That is very close though,” Marco says, smiling at them. “Congrats to Team Awesome.”

“Mikasa was with them, so losing by this few points? I count that as an accomplishment,” Armin says, standing up and stretching. “Well then, shall we do the final bit?”

“Final bit?” Marco asks, accepting Armin’s hand and standing up from the couch.

“The photo bit,” Jean says, watching Connie and Sasha dance around with a look of minor annoyance. “For remembrance.”

“Call it cheesy, but I like to collect those photos,” Armin says, grabbing Eren next and pulling him towards the door.

“But it’s the one where the giants are eating us! I don’t like that,” Eren says with a major sulk, looking all of five years old again. A second later though, he brightens up with a smug expression. “But a bet is a bet! I win, Jean.”

Jean is too tired to care. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Couldn’t have hoped to win against a reckless fool anyway.”

“A reckless fool who scored more kills!” Eren points out with glee as the employees herd them into the photo room.

There is a set-up on two ends of the photo room, one for the victorious team, and one for the losing team. With the victorious team, they get to hold their play swords and pretend to be slashing the cut-out giants’ necks. With the losing team, they stand in position within a giant’s grip, in a giant’s mouth, or under a giant’s foot.

“I like them both,” Marco declares, giggling when he sees Connie strike a macho pose while holding a sword. “No wonder you get these pictures, Armin.”

“Yep. Now we just have to look suitably horrified,” Armin says, looking around before deciding that he wants to stand in the titan’s mouth. “I almost got eaten by one of them today anyway.”

“I’ll take this one then,” Marco says, pointing at the grip and putting himself in place, such that he looks trapped. “This did happen to me.”

“Really?” Eren asks, looking reluctant to choose any position that involves him being in a weaker position than the giants. “When did that happen?”

“Mm – ” Marco shoots a look at Jean, who gives him a wide-eyed look back. “Just a little after we got separated. But Jean took care of the giants soon enough.”

“Hmm…guess you’re not that useless after all,” Eren says, not noticing the look of relief on Jean’s face that Marco did not reveal everything. “Horse face, where are you going to stand?”

“Aren’t you tired of the horse jokes already?” Jean asks while looking around. He decides to position himself between the hands of a giant, who poses as though he is holding the human up by its two arms and is about to tear him apart. “There. Now you can take one of the other two.”

Eren scowls at the choices left – either to be trodden by a giant or, like Armin, to be half eaten by one. In the end his dignity decides for him and he chooses the half eaten one. “Better this than being trodden like an insect.”

Jean shakes his head. Trust Eren to rationalize his way between two horrid choices. He takes a quick glimpse at Marco, who seems to be having a lot of fun and not like he’s being threatened by a giant at all. Jean can’t help but smile, and he has to look away when it seems like Marco is about to glance his way.

“Okay, Team Hunters. Looks of horror ready?” the photographer asks.

Eren lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Let’s just get this over with,” he says.

“Right then. In 3, 2, 1…scream!”

.

In pure Eren style, he ends up scowling at the camera instead of acting suitably horrified. “Oi, what’s this? You ruined the picture!” Jean says, affronted.

It is a nice photo though – and Eren is not the only one to break out of character. Even behind Marco’s wide-eyed look of horror there’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. It’s adorable. Jean is going to treasure this photo for the rest of his life – him and his One True Love, going through terror together. And if nothing else, he can use this to tease Armin as well – the guy could get an Oscar for how real his look of terror is.

“Shut up, you gormless git. Ain’t no way I’m gonna admit defeat to anything,” Eren says while slapping down some money for his photo. “Getting one, Marco?”

Marco gives him a look. “Did you even have to ask?” he says, his money already out and ready.

“Guess we’re all getting one then,” Armin says cheerfully. “I’m getting both teams’.”

“Me too,” Mikasa says, smiling at the photos in the screen. Connie and Sasha had given her center place of honour, and anybody who knew Mikasa well enough could see the quietly pleased look in her expression as she prepares to slice the neck of a giant. “I’m going to show these to mum.”

“What? No!” Eren protests. “Not this one!”

“Why not? She’ll like them,” Mikasa says.

“Not a chance in hell!”

Armin takes the chaos as an opportunity to sidle close to Jean. “Enjoying the photos?” he asks a little too innocently.

Jean raises his eyebrow at Armin. The glossy photos, put in decorated paper frames by the employees, are held protectively in his hands. “An obvious question requires no answer,” he says, turning his nose high in the air.

Armin laughs and accepts his own copy of the photos from the employee. “Glad to see it’s worth it.”

“Yeah.” He turns to see Marco chatting with Sasha and Connie, his own copy of the photos tucked under his arm. He turns back to Armin, something deep inside him aching as he comes to a realization – a realization that had been some time in the making. Smiling, he says again, “Yeah, it is.”

.

_“He might not be the funniest man in the world, or the smartest, but he is a good man who never stops trying to make others happy. And that’s when I realized – I would rather he be happy with someone else, than unhappy with me. I think that’s when I knew I love him.”_

_Curious, Jean had looked up from his glass of milk. He didn’t quite understand. His teacher had said that if you love someone you want to always and always be with them. He wondered what his mother meant, so he said, “But you’re with Dad now.”_

_The gentle look still in her eyes, she turned to him and smiled. “Yes. That is the biggest blessing of my life – that he chose to be happy with me. Love is…love is more than just liking someone. It is making a choice for yourself and that person. It is letting the other person make a choice. And sometimes that means you or the other person might make a choice that will break your heart.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that refuses to end due to my all-consuming love for themeparks and simulation games and Shenanigans. Please let me know if you love themeparks too (in which case, yay fellow fans!). I hope to get back to cafes and ice cream parlours after the next chapter though. 
> 
> As always, overwhelmed by the love, grateful and humbled by your kind comments. Thank you so much, hope you have enjoyed this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments will always be appreciated :)


End file.
